My Niece
by Wooden Rat
Summary: Will V. runs away from home and accidentally runs into a forgotten uncle in a former hippie commune. The story is told from the view of the uncle, Arthur Addlestadt.
1. Chapter 1

**My Niece**

A W.I.T.C.H. Fan-Fic

_Introduction_

It has been often said that life is full of surprises. If such is the case, I would say that what happened that first week of October of 2004 would be one of the more surprising and important moments in my life. That was the week I saw my niece for the very first time.

Looking back at it, I'm very happy to have met her, especially since she no longer has a father figure to look up to ever since my jerk of a half-brother ditched her and her mother when she was still very young. It still infuriates me that he would simply toss them by the wayside in the fashion that he did, but at the same time, it made a lot of sense why the marriage failed: it would have been impossible for my half-brother who approached life the way he did to have settled down into family life. In a way, I feel somewhat responsible for not aggressively warning his future wife about my half-brother. But at the very least, I could have been given the info on where I could have contacted her and her daughter, so I could have helped support them. However, I was lucky that I had the chance to meet her at all; had she not stumbled into Whitesage, I may have died with her never even being on my conscience.

This writing here chronicles the week that she spent with me, from the evening that I discovered her in the Whitesage ravine to the day her mother picked her up to take her home. During that time, I learned much about her and the life she and her mother had been leading since they moved to Heatherfield from Fadden Hills, and perhaps she learned to be a little more forgiving of the world around her. After all, life by default is easy; it's just that we make it harder than it needs to be.

_Day 1_

The story began on a Friday, and it was as normal as one could expect in this day and age. I got up, fed Sven (my Elkhound), ate breakfast, and then Sven and I took off for our appointed rounds: Sven would be going off to the Howl House (a doggy day-care center) and I was heading off to The Mystic's Emporium, which is kind of like The Mustard Seed but with a more expansive religious catalogue and a late 1960s vibe.

The walk was, by all accounts, uneventful. We stopped by our usual kiosk by the corner of Bradbury and Milson to check up on the local news, and then we continued on down Bradbury Street until we reached the Howl House. I dropped off Sven and made my way to Merlin Lane, where The Mystic's Emporium is located. As expected, Bryan, my boss, was up and about, checking the inventory. "Morning Arthur." He said to me, as he always did. I replied the same way I always did: "Morning Bryan. Nothing new expected today, right?"

"Actually, I'm expecting a new shipment of goods to come in today; mostly textiles and ritual materials." The answer surprised me a little; usually if there were shipments of goods, I'd know about it. "That's weird. Why is there a new shipment of goods coming in and I don't know about it?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I just I should've have told you about it sooner. I'm ordering a bunch of goods in the popular items for the month because I'm afraid that will have better than average sales. Now that things have cooled down somewhat, I feel that people in and out of town will rush here in droves to get their supplies for Samhain after last year's lull. I guess I was so worried about running out of supplies that I forgot to tell you."

I decided not to respond to it; Bryan doesn't take sarcasm too well. Instead, I went into the backroom and sat down at my usual desk to check over the papers regarding finances, inventory, past sales, call-ins, etc. With that done, I returned to the front of the store and waited for any customers and/or merchants to come by.

From there, not much else happened. The number of customers coming in was rather typical for the day, which consisted of a half-dozen or so people. And like most jobs where one likes their work, the time literally flew and it was soon 6:30 PM, and thus time for me to head home. "Well Arthur, another day done for," Bryan said to me as I was getting my stuff taken care of to leave. "Are you planning on coming in tomorrow?"

"Probably, unless something comes up, which I highly doubt it will." I responded. "Anything special expected during your weekend?"

"No. Just the same old grind as far as I'm concerned. Call me if you change your mind about coming in tomorrow, OK?"

"Sure will, Bryan." With that, I left to pick up Sven, and then we headed home. As far as I was concerned, the upcoming weekend was to be like any other weekend that I had experienced for years. But nothing could have prepared me for what would transpire that evening.

It all started around 7:45 PM. As I had for many an evening in Whitesage, I was spending my time lifting weights in the basement when I heard Sven whining and barking from upstairs. After putting up the weights up, I went upstairs to see what the problem was. But there was basically nothing wrong or out of place upstairs, much less with Sven himself. That meant only one thing to me: Sven wanted to go out for a walk. "You want to walk outside, don't you?" I told Sven; he just coyly looked at me as if to say 'What else do you think I'd want?' Not wanting to allow Sven to become destructive, I simply got my jacket from the closet, grabbed a lantern to see in the dark, and got Sven all leashed up. "Alright, Sven. Let's be quick about this; it's getting late." I told him, and off we went.

We walked around our usual spots, which were around the south-side playground, the south side co-op, and down Rabbit Boulevard towards the Whitesage Ravine. But as we were about to make our way back home, Sven stopped in his tracks, and despite my best efforts, he wouldn't move. "Sven, it's getting late, and I want to go home," I told him. "Unless you're going to the bathroom, let's keep moving." But he didn't budge; instead, he began sniffing the air as if someone was cooking sausages. "Sven, this is stupid. There is nothing cooking out right now. Why are you sniffing the air?" I told the dog again, more firmly than before.

That's when things started getting crazy. Almost a split second after I finished speaking, Sven lunged towards the ravine. However, I was strong enough to keep my balance and neutralize the lunge, but he was still straining hard and was pulling me towards the ravine. "Sven!" I shouted as was trying to keep him steady, "What gotten into…"

But then I lost my balance, and once I hit the ground, I let go of the leash as part of a jerk reaction. Sven didn't waste a second; before I knew what was going on, he was under the ravine fence and into the ravine. Though there were no large animals that would see Sven as food, I didn't want him roaming around the ravine at this time of the night, so I gave chase. Not surprisingly, when I got to the bottom of the ravine, there was seemingly no trace of him, so I began searching. But I didn't get very far until I heard a blood-curdling scream coming from my right. Doing my best to try and pinpoint where the scream came from, I began moving through the underbrush of the ravine, hoping that I wouldn't step on something. As I was doing so, I began to hear hysterical ravings coming from the distance; I had no clue what source they were coming from, but I was certain that they were human. I kept running for what must have seemed like an eternity, but I finally found Sven. He was apparently sniffing something, so I brought the lantern up to see what was going on. It was there that I found the source of the noise.

It was a teenage girl. She had to have been around 16 years old, and her hair was about chin length. I had no recollection of such a person living in South side of Whitesage, so she had to have been from the North side or that she was some sort of transient. "Oh thank god someone showed up!" she blubbered as I tried to get a good idea of the surroundings. "Get this wolf off of me!"

With that, I shouted, "Sven! Get off of her!" Reluctantly, he came to me, whining as if something was wrong, but I didn't see that there was anything wrong.

"I'm sorry that he caused you so much trouble, but he's not a wolf. He's an Elkhound." With that, I left back for home, but I didn't even get five steps before that girl yelled, "Wait! Please, come back!"

As reluctantly as Sven left the girl, I reluctantly returned to her. "What's the problem?" I asked her.

"I think that I'm stuck in something, but I don't know what." She said.

"Are you hurt?" When she shook her head no, I then said, "OK, let me take a look." And with that, I dropped down to one knee, bringing the lantern with me, to see what was going on. It came very apparent to me that she had stepped into some rocks that had pinned her left foot. Seeing this, I then said, "Let me see what I can do." It didn't take long to get her foot free.

"OK then. Let's get you home; I bet your parents are worried." I told her. But then she said: "I don't want to go back home!"

I kind of stared back at her, as it was easy to get back home wherever home was in Whitesage. "What do you mean you don't want to go back home?" I asked.

"I said it the way I meant it. I don't want to go back home. I couldn't if I wanted to!" she said, her voice shaking.

"Why?"

"I don't know where I am!"

I was a bit shocked; it was common for people from the nearby towns Codton and Gunnersville to come over here, but for someone to say that they didn't know where they were meant they had to have traveled a long distance with no sense of direction. After a pause, I then said, "Well, if you're not from here, where are you from?"

But she didn't say anything; instead, she began to shrink in stature, as if she was ashamed to be stuck in this situation. Not knowing what else to do, I said, "Come with me. Let's get you to my place so we can get things sorted out." I started walking off towards the nearest known exit, hoping that she would follow me. As I hoped, and as surprising as many people would find, she followed me, after a short delay.

It was about 8:30 PM when we got back to my place. In the light, I was able to see the girl more clearly, and I noticed a few things that I hadn't noticed before: first, she was a redhead. Second, she had brown eyes. Third, she had a noticeably athletic build. Fourth, she was wearing a blue jacket and beneath the jacket was a sea green shirt with a frog plastered on the front; she also had on blue denim pants and a pair of white sneakers. Finally, she was carrying over her right shoulder a very large duffel bag that was gray in color, and it had a frog keychain connected to the zipper. "You can sit down wherever you want. I need to get some stuff put away, and then I want some info." I told her as I unhooked Sven from his leash.

From there, I went downstairs to do what I said I would do: put stuff away, namely my weights back on the stands. I also went to grab some blankets, as I began to think that this girl, whoever she was, might be staying as a guest. All the while, I spent my time thinking about questions I wanted to ask this girl, mostly the usual stuff. The more info I could get out of her, I figured, the better I could help her out. With the blankets brought out, I grabbed a few sharpened pencils and a notepad so I could get some answers.

But when I got to the main room, I saw the girl crying softly. Obviously, it would be nearly impossible to get any coherent information out of her in this state. But, at the time anyway, I thought that she was here in Whitesage for another reason: she wanted to commit suicide.

The reason for my assumption was due to Whitesage history, though it didn't make it any more ludicrous: though Whitesage is one of the best-kept secrets in my part of the world, it also has garnished a rather bad reputation as a suicide spot for everyone ranging from distraught teenage runaways to addicts who have hit rock bottom. It was largely due to the fact that at the center of the ravine (and unfortunately, at its lowest point) was a large bridge that directly connected Whitesage to the roadway leading to Codton. Officially speaking, it was called the Hummingbird Bridge, but over the years there had been so many suicides taking place that it became known as Hurling and Hanging Bridge, as people would either hurl themselves off the bridge 10+ meters to their deaths or hang themselves from the handrails. I thought that this girl had come all the way here just to put herself out of her misery.

In nearly all cases, one would try to comfort the person in question so they didn't feel as bad about their situation as they thought. But instead, I sauntered to the garage to get some rope to make a noose.

My actions could best be explained by the philosophical reasoning of an associate, one Derek Alman. According to his beliefs, a person who was miserable were better off dead, because he thought overly sorrowful emotion (or any intense emotion, for that matter) would mess up society functioning properly, though he was very particular about sadness. Over time, the concept made perfect sense to me and I accepted it as fact. In doing so, I had done much to keep sadness at bay and had made my life far more organized than I had done before. To see someone so distraught was deeply troubling to me, and for my sake it was better for her to put an end to it as soon as possible.

After making sure the noose was structurally sound, I went back inside the house. The girl had not moved but Sven had rested his head onto the girl's left leg and the girl was scratching behind his ears; I found that odd because he didn't like strangers. Nevertheless, I dropped the noose onto the table and said, "OK, let's get you back to the ravine."

The girl, mortified by what I just said, just stared at me and said, "What are talking about?"

"I know why you're here. You want to go to the Hummingbird Bridge to end it all, and…"

The girl did not give me the chance to finish: "ARE YOU NUTS? DO YOU THINK I WOULD COME OFF TO RELIGION KNOWS WHERE JUST TO KILL MYSELF?"

"Well, yes; you see…"

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? I DON'T WANT TO HANG MYSELF WITH THIS THING YOU MADE! DON'T YOU HAVE ANY SENSE OF REALITY?" she shouted at me.

By this time I was starting to get very frustrated; after all, I was doing what I thought was right, and I did NOT like having being talked back to someone who I was trying to help. "Now listen here, young lady…" I said to her, but I didn't get to far when she interrupted with "MY NAME IS WILL!"

An awkward silence soon pervaded the room. I then said the first thing that came to my mind to that situation: "Will? You don't look like a boy!"

"IT'S SHORT FOR WILMA!"

I suddenly stopped for a moment. _Wilma?_ I thought to myself. _Where have I heard that name before?_ But my thoughts were quickly extinguished to the situation at hand, and I responded, "OK, WILMA. I'm trying to help you out here the best way I can. I only assumed you wanted to kill yourself…"

"I told you before, I do not want to kill myself." Wilma said, calming down a little. "Why would anyone believe that whoever shows up in a ravine would want to die?"

"As I was saying before you interrupted me, there is a bridge where every now and again people go to leave this realm. I naturally thought that you were one of them."

"That's disgusting. And I'm NOT one of them."

"That said, Wilma, if you're not from here, I'd like to know where you're from so I can get home."

"I'm not telling you."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to go back home."

"Wilma, I don't think that's very helpful in the long run."

"I don't care. And could you just call me Will?"

"I don't feel comfortable calling you Will. It makes me feel like I'm talking to the guy that works in a café downtown."

Wilma didn't respond. I didn't though if she was just getting my goat or was otherwise too miserable to respond. Knowing that she would not respond well if I tried to call the police department in my house, I then said, "If you'll excuse me, I have to go to my neighbor's house. My phone for whatever reason is out of order and I need to talk to a client tonight."

Once again, she didn't respond. I simply got my jacket on and walked to the door. "Whatever you do, don't leave the house." I told Wilma as I stepped outside.

Once outside, I walked across the street and towards the house of Orin and Sharon Walls, a couple who I considered my friends, and whom I had helped their offspring out a number of times, namely with schoolwork. Knocking on the door, I was answered by their 13-year old son, Robert. "Hi Robert. Is your Mom or Dad here? I need to use their phone." I told him.

"Wait here." Robert said. He then left and I heard loud footsteps, and then some muffled noises. About a minute later, Orin was at the door. "My son says you need to use our phone." He said, sounding rather annoyed.

"Yes. The phone at my place is out of order."

"Fine. But I don't know why you want to come over here. Why can't you just try talking to the people on your side of the street?"

I then stopped, and realized that Orin was right. "Oh yeah. Well, I'm sorry to disturb you. I better…"

"Since you're already here, you may as well use the phone." Orin grumbled. "There's no reason to disturb the rest of the neighborhood."

From there, I headed into the main hallway and picked up the phone book, looking for the number for the Whitesage Police Department. "By the way," Orin said to me while I was flipping through the pages. "Who are you calling?"

"The Whitesage Police Department." I answered. This not surprisingly shocked Orin, as it would shock anybody. "Why would you call the police department? I don't see anything wrong with your house." He said.

I replied, "It's a long story, but to keep it short, I came across a teenager in the ravine and she won't tell me where she's from, so I'm calling the police department to find out where she's from. Ah, here's the number."

From there I dialed the number, and as expected I got a quick response from one of the desk officers. When prompted, I said, "Well, first off, I am Arthur Addlestadt of 314 Crystal Street. I'd like to report that I found a transient from out of town who refuses to go back home."

"Can you please give a description of the transient?" the officer asked.

"Yes. It's a female, about 16 years old. Her name is Wilma, she's Caucasian, is average size in terms of height, has an athletic build, brown eyes, and chin length reddish hair."

"Is the person hurt in any way?"

"Not physically, but she seems to be emotionally despondent to my questions."

"Do you know where she's from?"

"I know for a fact that she's not from here, nor is she from Codton or Gunnersville, so I'm sure she must have come from outside this area."

"Is there anything else that was of note that could help us fill in her description?"

"Two things. First was the clothing she's wearing. This includes a sea green shirt with a frog on the front, a black jacket, blue denim pants, and white sneakers. Second, she was carrying along a large duffel bag that was gray in color and had a frog keychain attached to the zipper."

"OK Arthur, I will check the database and make calls within the province to see of any missing persons fitting your description. This may take some time, so we'll call you back as soon as possible."

"Thanks; I really appreciate the effort." With that, I hung up the phone and sat down. Not more than a minute passed before I was approached by Robert's twin sister, Renee. "What are you doing here Arthur?" she asked. "Shouldn't you be at home?"

"I should." I told her. "But I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I have someone who refuses to go home, and I have been talking to the local police department to see where she's from."

Renee kind of stared at me, as if she found my story ridiculous; looking back at it, nearly everyone would think along the same lines. Then she said, "Well, if you want to call the police department, why are you here calling?"

"Well, Renee, I figure that in my guest's current state of being, that she would do anything to keep me from talking to authority figures like police officers, so I thought to avoid any more emotional trauma, I would call from here."

"Well could you please hurry up about it? I'm not in a big hurry to do this, but I have a friend who's been trying to organize…"

But then the phone rang. I got to the phone first. On the phone was a man that sounded somewhat different from the previous officer I talked to. "Hello. Is this one Arthur Addlestadt from Whitesage?" the man said.

"Yes, this is he." I answered.

"This is Thomas Lair of the Heatherfield Police Department. I got word from the Whitesage Police Department about a girl that matches the description of a recent runaway here."

"I see… Wait a minute, did you say you're from the HEATHERFIELD Police Department!"

"Yes sir. I was rather shocked when I got word about the description from such a faraway place myself." There was a short pause, and then the officer said, "But getting back to the subject, the description given to us by your police department matches one Wilma Vandom."

"OK. What should I do?"

"Well, is she hurt?"

"Physically speaking, not that I know of."

"I see. Now, it'll be very late to come and pick her up at Whitesage, knowing how far she is away. It might be best if you get her a place to sleep for the night and we can pick her up tomorrow."

"Eh, Officer Lair, I don't know if that's in the best interest for her."

"Well, that's easy for anyone to say, but the sooner that I can get her home, the better. And furthermore, these actions are standard routine at police departments everywhere."

"Well, let me explain. Though she doesn't appear hurt, she's in bad emotional straits, and has not responded to my questions. I don't think it would be in her best interests, her parents' best interests, your best interests, and/or even my best interests to just let her return home."

"And why is that?"

"Because she will likely try to run away again, kill those who she feels wronged, and/or commit suicide."

"So, are you some kind of therapist?"

"Not technically, Officer Lair, but I have dabbled in the science. Now, if I could, I'd like to ask some questions in regards to Wilma, if you know anything about her. Or if I'm allowed to."

"No, I'll allow it. To be honest, I don't know THAT much about her; all I do know is that she's a friend to my daughter."

"OK, there's something we can work with. Try talking to her and seeing what may have caused Wilma to run off like that."

"I'll see what I can do, but going back to the topic at hand, the sooner we can get her home, the better."

"Yes, I understand that, officer, but I really don't think that would be in everyone's best interest, and certainly not hers."

"So what would you suggest, sir?"

"As far as I'm concerned, she can stay here for the night. If you have any spare time tomorrow, I'll drive over to your police department and have a talk with you on what would be the best course of action. It might be a good idea if you ask her parents and/or guardians to also join us."

"I guess that could work; it's definitely unorthodox, but it's worth a try. I'll see if I can get a conference room set aside for the afternoon tomorrow and then I will call Wilma's mother to see if she can make it to the meeting. Now, if I need to phone you, what number should I dial?"

"Well, not this number; this one belongs to a neighbor. If you have a piece of paper and a writing utensil, I can provide it for you." From there I told him of my home phone number and asked for his, just in case I needed to talk to him. After recording his number, I also told him not to reveal his identity over the phone until he could confirm it was me, to avoid a potential emotional relapse. We then said our good-byes and I hung up. "OK, Renee, you can have the phone now. Just don't talk about my discussions over the phone, OK?" I said. She nodded yes, and I then made my way to the door, but Orin stopped me, saying "So, what's the scoop?"

"That girl that I found in the ravine… is from Heatherfield." I told him.

"What?" he exclaimed. When I nodded my head yes, he then said, "You have to be pulling my leg, Arthur! There's no way that someone of ANY age, let alone a teenager, could go all the way from Heatherfield to Whitesage in one day!"

"Well, I talked to an officer from the Heatherfield Police Department who said they have a match in the missing persons files, and I don't want to doubt a police officer. And besides, there's an extensive bus system in the province; maybe she was traveling about on the system and got lost."

"Well, that certainly possible, but I still find it hard to imagine how someone that age could go for such a distance in one day by themself. I mean, Heatherfield is about a two-hour drive from here."

"Yeah, I know." After a brief pause, I then said, "Listen. I'm going to Heatherfield to speak with the police officer in question and perhaps the girl's mother as well."

"So, why are you telling me this?"

"Because I don't want you, or anyone else in your family for that matter, to go spill the beans that I found a girl in the ravine and I then took her to my house. Even in a society like this, people will get suspicious about potential… perverse activity."

"Oh, I see. Well, I'll be sure to let everyone in the family know about the issue, and I promise that we will have our lips sealed."

"Thanks. Have a good night."

"You too." And with that, I left back for home.

When I got back into my house, Wilma was still sitting on the couch, but Sven was now laying his head on her lap, and in his jaws was the noose I had made; it was likely that he saw it as a chew toy of sorts. Wilma demeanor had improved a little, but I could clearly see in her eyes that she was still emotionally shaken. After staring at them, I finally broke the silence by saying, "Well, Wilma, where would you like to sleep for the night?"

She looked at me and asked, "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that would you like to sleep here for the night, or do you want me to find a motel room for you?"

She became very quiet for a moment, as if she didn't know what to do. I couldn't blame her; after all, she was in a strange town that was very far away from home, and now she was in someone's house that she had never been in before. Neither option was very good, but I would've expected to say that she wanted to go to the motel. Instead, she said, "Eh, I don't know."

"Well, it is getting awfully late, and I have a business meeting out of town I have to go to, so I'd appreciate it if you could make up your mind about this, Wilma."

"Eh, I guess I better stay here. I don't want to spend money on me simply because I'm here."

"OK then, I'll get the guest room set up. The bathroom is over that way, if you need a place to clean up and change." I then motioned to Sven, saying, "Sven. It's time for bed."

Reluctantly, Sven got off of Wilma's lap and trotted over to his pillow where he layed back down, still clutching the noose in his jaws. Content that Sven was getting ready for bed, I then made my way to the study so I could set up the futon into its bed configuration. But as I began to get the bed made, I froze. _Hmm. This Wilma girl seems rather familiar,_ I thought to myself. _She almost halfway reminds me of… No! That's Impossible! Even if he had the desire to settle down, there's no way that he…_

My thoughts were stopped when I heard a low knocking on the door, followed by a, "Eh, do you have my bed ready, Mister?"

"I'm just about finished, Wilma." I said. "And you can call me Arthur." I finally got the sheets fitted and the pillows put on the bed, and then I opened the door. There was Wilma, standing in front of the door. She was wearing a pair of rather plain pistachio green pajamas and holding her duffel bag in her hand. I then said to her, "The bed's done. Hopefully it will suit your needs for the time being." After a short silence, I then said, "Well, I guess I better get ready to hit the sack. Just let me know if there is anything you need resolved." I then walked off to the bathroom. From there, I cleaned my teeth and then trotted off to my bedroom where I changed into my pajamas and I turned in for the night. As far as I was concerned, it was a pretty normal night, though I thought I heard crying coming from the guest room. If that was true, my thoughts would've been accurate to the situation: _Are you sure you don't want to kill yourself, Wilma? There's no reason for you to be this miserable, especially having me going through the trouble to provide for you in your time of need._ But it wasn't long before I was so sound asleep that I wasn't thinking about it at all.


	2. Chapter 2

_Day 2_

The second day itself started oddly. I was still in the midst of my sleep when I heard knocking on my door. I tried to ignore it, but then I heard something from Wilma that struck me as utterly bizarre: "Eh, Arthur? Sven has his food bowl in his mouth."

Hearing that, I willed myself out of bed and stammered towards the door. When I opened it, I saw Wilma standing with Sven by her side and in his mouth was his food bowl. I found that particularly strange, as Sven had never done that with me. Whenever he was hungry, he would simply stand in front of me or my bedroom door and whine until I complied. But I was so out of it from last night that I didn't want to feed him, so I said, "Sven wants to be fed. Go into the kitchen and look under the sink. There's a box that holds his food; give him one scoop of food, and be sure to tightly close it when you're done. I'll be out in a few minutes."

I then walked back into my bedroom and closed the door to get my bathrobe and moccasins on, and then I opened the door and walked over to the kitchen to get some coffee. Wilma was sitting at the table, staring out into the distance. Seeing this, I said, "I'm pretty sure that you don't want coffee, Wilma."

She then looked at me and said, "What did you say?"

I repeated the previous phrase: "I'm pretty sure that you don't want coffee, Wilma."

"Oh, yeah. You're right. I don't want coffee." From there, I sat down at the table and began drinking my coffee. Wanting to keep Wilma from drifting off into another aimless stupor, I said, "So, did you sleep well last night?"

"Yeah. It took me a little while to fall asleep, though." Wilma responded.

"Well, I'm sorry that you had to sleep on a futon. Even with all of the dressing up, it's still not as good as your standard bed. It's certainly beats sleeping on the couch, however."

There was a long pause after that comment, on which Wilma's face was rather hard to read. She wasn't staring aimlessly about, but she wasn't really thinking all that hard about what she wanted to say or do next. Once again, I broke the silence: "Is there anything you'd like to have for breakfast?"

"Eh, if you have any eggs, I wouldn't mind having some scrambled." Wilma said.

"I do have some eggs; hold on." I then went to the fridge to go get the eggs, and then I asked, "I'm also going to get out some juice. I hope you don't mind orange juice, as it's the only stuff I have."

From there, I placed the orange juice onto the table, went into the cabinets to grab a cup, and I gave it to Wilma. After that, I took the eggs to the stove along with a bowl and I began heating up the skillet that was already sitting on top of the burner. "By the way," I said as I reached over for one of the eggs, "Do you have any sort of gift with dogs?"

"Not really. Why?" Wilma replied.

"Because Sven usually doesn't go out of his way to meet people, especially if he's never seen them before." I answered. "And yet with you, he acts as if he's known you all his life." After that, I broke the egg into the bowl and began whisking it.

"Hm. I guess I might actually have something special with dogs Arthur, though I've never been around one long enough to tell."

There was another pause, and then for once, Wilma broke the silence: "So Sven is an Elkhound. He certainly doesn't look like any hound that I've ever seen."

"Well, that's because of a bad Norwegian translation. The breed's original name sounds eerily like Elkhound, but its name, which is Elghund, translates to Moose Dog. Despite that, this breed has been classified as a hound ever since."

"I see. So where did you get him?"

"Well, that's a story in itself. Oh, and before I continue, do you want one egg or two?"

"Eh, I didn't have much to eat coming here, so I'll say two."

"OK." I said as I broke another egg into the bowl and began whisking again. "Anyway, getting back to the story. It actually took place about three years ago. My mother, who lives in Fadden Hills, told me that a friend of hers had died and that among the things in her possession was what she called a wolf puppy. She was frightened and called me for assistance, because she had no idea what to do with him. Well, I thought the whole story seemed rather far-fetched, so I told her that I would go out to see her and find out what was going on. When I did get there, I saw the 'wolf puppy' enclosed in a box, and I took one look at it and I realized that it was an Elkhound, not a wolf. But even with a visit to a local veterinarian, my mother refused to hang on to him, so I adopted him and he's been living with me for the last few years."

At last, I got the eggs done, and I transferred them to a plate with a fork. I brought the eggs over to Wilma, but I was rather surprised to see Wilma looking rather depressed. I didn't know what I did, but I was afraid to probe deeper into her psyche.

The rest of the breakfast went by very quietly, as I spent the time drinking my coffee. When she was done eating, I took the dishes off to the sink and cleaned them up, and then I dried them and put them back into the cabinet. After that, I said, "Well, since you're the guest, I'll let you have the shower first, but I'd appreciate it if you could make it a fast shower."

Wilma looked up, rather puzzled. "OK, but there's something strange about your shower, Arthur." She said.

"What do you mean, strange?" I replied.

"Well, I saw the shower, but the showerhead seemed to be attached to a hose…"

"Oh, I know what you're talking about. All showers here in Whitesage are equipped with special water-saving showerhead hoses. You've probably never used one before."

"Actually, I've never SEEN one before, much less used one. And while I'm on the topic, why is the bathroom handicap-assessable? I don't see you as crippled."

"It's a law in Whitesage that mandates that all dwellings be made handicap-friendly." I told Wilma. After a short pause, I then said, "So, do you want me to show you how the showerhead hose works?"

"Well, I didn't shower yesterday, and I really don't want to smell, so I guess I better learn how it works." Wilma said. From there, we got up from the table and went into the bathroom where I went and showed how the showerhead hose worked.

"It's a pretty simple operation when you get down to it." I explained. "You just turn on the water, and you can just take down the showerhead by pulling it out of the stand. Now, do you see this lever right here on the side?"

"Yes."

"That allows the water to come out of the showerhead. When it's vertical, like it is now, water will come out, but when you switch it to be horizontal like so, the water flow stops. Be sure to know this! Whenever you don't need the water, like when you're applying soap or shampoo, be sure to turn off the showerhead hose. You'll be wasting water if you don't, and the water prices here are likely much higher than where you are from."

"But why is that?"

"Environmental tariffs. Well, I guess that it for all I know. I'd very much appreciate it if you could make your shower a fast one. I'll be downstairs getting stuff ready for my business meeting if you need anything."

With that, I closed the door behind me. Sven was waiting anxiously in the middle of the main room on top of his pillow, as if he wanted to go outside. "Eh, OK Sven." I halfway mumbled. "Let's get you outside." Sven immediately leapt from his pillow over to the front door, where his leash was waiting. I got it attached to his collar and went outside to a fairly decent day for that time of year. There was not much new to see out there, though I did wave hello to Orin across the street as he was raking up some of the first leaves that had fallen on the ground. Sven did his 'business' as expected, and I took him back inside. After that, I cleaned up what Sven had left, and I then went inside and down into the basement and into my office. Once inside the office, I called in to The Mystic's Emporium. After the second tone, I heard Bryan's familiar voice over the phone: "This is The Mystic's Emporium of Whitesage; Bryan speaking."

"Hi. This is Arthur." I said.

"Hm. It's awfully early, Arthur. Is there something wrong?"

"Yes. I have to go out of town for the day. Something rather serious came up and I can't talk my way out of it."

"In other words, you won't be coming in to work today."

"I'm sorry Bryan. I know that it rather sudden, but I don't have a choice."

"I understand, Arthur."

"I sure hope you don't mind the joint by yourself today…"

"Don't worry about it, Arthur. If you have other things to attend to, do so. I can handle things on my own and with the others."

"Alright then. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye."

With that I hung up the phone. I then grabbed my briefcase and began loading it with anything relevant for the upcoming meeting with Officer Lair, but it was little more than just some paper and writing tools. All the while, I was thinking about Wilma and why she had come to this place. _How could such a girl actually run off like this?_ I thought to myself. _It's one thing to run off from Codton or Gunnersville, but Heatherfield? Either she's just out of her mind or something really traumatic happened. I can only hope that her parents, and for that matter, Officer Lair, will allow me to gather some evidence on what got everyone in this set of affairs._ After that process, I began having another set of thoughts, but something completely different. _Where have heard the last name 'Vandom' before?_ After a pause, I began to think back to the times I was around Wilma's age, which was a time I wanted to forget. _OK, let's just start with the people in my class. I don't remember anyone from our local sports teams having that last name. Nor do I remember anyone who was given significant academic… wait a second. There was one…_

But before I could go any further on the thought processes, I heard Wilma from upstairs shouting, "OK Arthur! I'm done with the shower!" I immediately replied, "Thanks for letting me know! I'll get my stuff together in a minute!" I quickly packed together anything else that would be of use for the upcoming meeting in my briefcase, snapped it shut, and with that I headed upstairs. As I passed through the main room, I saw Wilma was sitting on the couch, playing with Sven and the noose; apparently, Sven still saw the noose as a toy. I didn't give it much of a thought as I went into my bedroom to gather up components to make a business suit. With that done I headed back downstairs; as I did, I said to Wilma, "There's a shower in the basement, so I'll use that one from here on out, if that's fine with you." I didn't get much of a response from her; perhaps I was so busy getting ready to take this trip that I didn't hear her.

After I got cleaned up and properly dressed, I went upstairs yet again to get my things and to talk to Wilma about what she could and couldn't do while I was gone. I already knew that I was running a big risk by having a strange teenage girl taking refuge in my home, and I didn't want my situation to get any worse than it already was. I found Wilma on the bed I made for her, playing with Sven. "I was wondering where you were." I told her. "Now before I go, there are a few ground rules that I'm going to ask for you to follow."

Wilma immediately looked up at me, rather shocked and stupefied. "Ground rules?" she exclaimed. "But why? I haven't done anything!"

"And that's true, outside of coming to stay here with me…" I began to say.

"But that's your fault! You INSISTED on bringing me here!"

"Wilma, the only reason I'm putting ground rules down is because even in a place like Whitesage, it is very suspicious to have a teenager lodging at someone's house when no one knows each other. The last thing I want to have is to be indicted for some sort of misconduct crime." With that, Wilma kind of calmed down. Perhaps she knew what I was getting at in terms of the situation between us.

"I don't ask of you much." I said. "All I ask is for you to stay inside the house under any and all circumstances. You're welcome to use any of the facilities and to go into any of the rooms that allow you clearance; there are signs on certain doors on where you can't go without my permission."

Wilma than asked, "What about Sven? What if he needs to use the bathroom?"

I responded, "There's a doggy door in the front door. I'll be sure to unlock it and to close up the fence so he doesn't escape."

From there, Wilma asked, "OK, but what if there's an accident, like there's a fire or something else like that? Or what if I need to contact you?"

I paused for a second. The first part I had not thought through, as I was anxious to be a part of this meeting, while the second part was a non-issue because I didn't have a cell phone. After thinking hard about the issues, I said, "Well, for religion's sake, I hope nothing goes wrong here. If it does, call the appropriate authorities and make up some good cover story, like you're my niece or something."

"NIECE!" she exclaimed. "ARTHUR, THAT'S STUPID! I'M NOT RELATED TO YOU!"

"Wilma, please! This is only meant to try to keep both of us from suspicion." I told her, trying to keep calm. "I don't like the idea much either, but we have few alternatives. Besides, it's just one idea; if you can come up with a better cover story, go with it. Above all else, though, I expect that nothing goes wrong while I'm away."

"OK, Arthur." Wilma answered, slowly calming down again. "But what if I need to contact you? I'll need to know your cell phone number…"

"I don't have a cell phone, Wilma."

Once again, Wilma halfway exploded. "YOU DON'T HAVE A CELL PHONE! WHAT KIND OF PERSON DOESN'T OWN A CELL PHONE!"

"I do, Wilma. But then again, quite a few people don't own cell phones in Whitesage. And even if I did have a cell phone, it wouldn't do us much good. Reception is terrible beyond this area."

"It still doesn't explain why you don't have a cell phone, Arthur. That's like saying it's not necessary to have a water source for amphibians to survive."

"Wilma, there are plenty of people in the world that do not own a cell phone, and I doubt that they would care about such an issue. Besides, we survived without cell phones for millennia, so that argument is rather moot." I responded. I then went off to the front door and I unlocked the doggy door section, and I kicked it to show Sven that it was open. Sven immediately came out of the bedroom and towards the doggy door, but stopped by the door and began pawing it, to make sure that it was open. Content that all was well, Sven then headed back to Wilma, and I followed.

"OK, Wilma, I'm off for this meeting. It might be awhile before I come back, just to let you know." I said.

"Well, good luck, I guess." Wilma responded. As I left, I thought, _I'll need it_. I left the house and into the garage, where my car, a modified subcompact 4-seater, rested. I tossed my briefcase onto the passenger side of the vehicle, and I then climbed in behind the driver's wheel. I slowly began to pull out of the driveway until I was out onto the road; from there I put the vehicle in park and went back to close the gate that led to my house. After that, I was off to Heatherfield.

As I was driving along, I began to return to my thought process regarding the last name of Wilma's, which was Vandom. _The only person whose ever had that last name that I know of was that girl in high school, Susan._ I thought to myself, unsure of whether that concept made any sense. _Wait. That doesn't make any sense at all. Susan had black hair; Wilma has reddish hair._ As I mused the possible connection between Wilma and Susan, another thought process started up, one more disturbing. _She did seem to be emotionally unstable. What could've… No! I already disproved that theory! Even if Tony did bonk around with every woman he came across, there's no way that he would've had a child. More likely than not, he'd probably force whoever he bonked to dump the cargo and deny the whole incident ever happened. It's just probably Wilma's current position that causing her to be so rambunctious and secretive. _After that, I concentrated all of my energies on the road ahead of me.

Heatherfield was one of the major cities within New Brunswick. Located along the southern coastline and considered the sister city to St. John, it had a population of roughly 500,000 people. To my mind (or for anyone coming from a small town), it was like any other major city, which meant it was a cesspool of criminal and civil nonsense and where a commute by motor vehicle was almost impossible.

I must have spent a good 20 minutes driving around, trying to find the Heatherfield Police Department. Thankfully, it wasn't that hard to find police officers in Heatherfield, as there must have been one for every one hundred people I saw. I guess that was to be expected, as one would need such a large police force to keep a city of this size in check, even for a nation as civilized as ours. After finding a good parking spot, I was able to get a hold of one of the police officers and got instructions on how to get to the station. After a quick drink of coffee, I was back on the streets and to the station.

The Heathefield Police Department was a building that seemed to blend into its surroundings; in fact, without the front sign, I wouldn't have known and/or cared what building it was. After finding another place to park, I then walked into the station's front entrance. The lobby was just as bland as the outside, which didn't surprise me in the least bit. There was only two other people in the lobby, that being the receptionist and a middle-aged woman with black hair that went a foot longer than her shoulders. I went over to the receptionist's desk and cleared my throat to get her attention. She looked up from her computer and said, "Can I help you sir?"

"Yes." I replied. "My name is Arthur Addlestadt; I'm here to see one Officer Lair regarding the missing person case of one Wilma Vandom."

"OK then. Let me contact Officer Lair; he should be at his desk. Please be…"

But before she could finish, a rather husky and muscular police officer came into the lobby via a door on the side, right in front of the receptionist. Apparently, this man had to be been Officer Lair, because the receptionist immediately said, "Officer Lair, both people you wanted to see this afternoon is here."

Officer Lair replied, "Thanks, Shirley." He then turned over to me and said, "Thanks for coming all this way, Arthur. I know that's a long drive for you."

"That's OK, Officer Lair. I know it's inconvenient, but such things need to be taken care of." I said.

"My feelings exactly. And you can call me Thomas. I've set aside a conference room for this meeting, so if you could come this way, Arthur, Susan."

I sort of froze. _Susan? It can't be! If that's her daughter, it would throw the entire universe out of the works._ I thought. _This woman would have to be her stepmother or something; there's no way Wilma could be the product of Tony!_ My thoughts were then broken when I heard Thomas say, "Is there a problem, Arthur?"

"No sir. I'm just thinking about something in regards to Wilma." I said. I then followed both Thomas and Susan into the police station.

After a short walk, we entered a room that was used for conferences. As expected, there was not much in the room. Thomas and Susan sat across me at one of the tables, but when I got a good look at Susan, I was struck on how similar her face was to Wilma's. That made me more uncomfortable as I heard Thomas say, "OK Arthur. Tell me, to the best of your ability, what happened last night in regards to Wilma."

From there, I must have spent a good ten minutes recalling almost all of what happened last night and the previous morning. I say 'almost' all because I did not make any mention of the noose issue not long after I got her into my home. Thomas and Susan kept silent until I was finished, though I suspect that Thomas was thinking that I was lying. I couldn't blame him; the whole story seemed pretty hokey.

"OK, Arthur. I have a few questions to ask you about the events you mentioned." Thomas said after I was finished. "First, you never mention why a girl in our city went to your general area. Why?"

"Well, I tried to ask her that question, but as I said before, she was despondent. She would not answer my questions regarding anything, especially where she came from." I said.

"I see. Another thing: why did you call from someone else's house?"

"I did so because I did not want Wilma to hear me talking to the police over the phone. I feared that she would try to run away again. The last thing I wanted was to have someone of that age run off again, and further from potential help."

"But why did you not just send her to your local police station?"

"For the same reasons, Thomas; I didn't want her to run away again."

"I see. Is it possible for me or Susan to talk to her now?"

"It's certainly possible, but as far as I'm concerned, I would not do so until I figure out why she ran away in the first place. Besides, it might be a good idea NOT to call us, just so she has a chance to fully vent."

"And this is based off of what analysis, Arthur?"

"Well, I hate to bring up my past history, but I had my fair share of issues when I was growing up, especially during my high school days. During one of my therapy visits, my shrink said that one thing I could try to do was to find activities outside of my home and get involved in them. He also said that sometimes it was considered necessary for people of all age groups to have some time off in different surroundings…"

"And this is what your therapist told you." Thomas said, interrupting me.

"Well, yes." I responded.

"Arthur, I have a hard time believing this story. I think I'd like to run a quick polygraph test to make sure you're telling the truth." Thomas told me.

"That's fine. If it helps clear up this issue, I'm all for it." I said.

From there I was taken to a separate room. Another police officer hooked me up to a polygraph machine and administered the test. It must have lasted about an hour, because I didn't know if the test would ever end. But after what seemed a long time, I was finished and I was taken back to the conference room with Susan. About ten minutes later, Thomas returned. "OK then. We just did an analysis of the test, and it appears that you've told the truth throughout." He said.

"I see." I replied. "Now, Thomas, remember about the discussion we had last night, in regards about what you know about Wilma via your own daughter?"

"Oh yes. I remember what you said. Yes, I did get to talk to my daughter about Wilma and the issue involved. She was rather shocked to hear what happened."

"So, what did you learn from her?"

"Not much, though according to what she said, Wilma seemed to be in a bad mood for most of the day. She didn't say what caused this state of affairs, but she suggested that it was related to a test or her swimming."

"I see. Did she offer any specifics?"

"I'm afraid not, Arthur."

"OK. Is there anything that you might provide that can help shed light on Wilma's exodus, Susan?" I asked.

At first, I got no response. I figured that she was in such a state of disbelief that she had shut herself off from the rest of the world. I then said, "Susan? Can you hear me?"

She then responded, "Oh, sorry. I'm just having a hard time believing what's happened here in the last couple of hours, and I didn't get much sleep last night."

"I understand. Now, back to the question I asked earlier. Is there any info you can provide me that could shed some light on why your daughter ran away?"

At that, I could almost see her melt before my eyes. She said, her voice quivering, "I think I'm responsible for my daughter running away."

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

"Well, my daughter and I have not had the best relationship in the world. We have a tendency to argue a lot, oftentimes about her school life. And well, she was in a bad mood when she came in from school yesterday. I tried to implore on her situation, but she stubbornly refused to disclose anything. Later, I caught her shouting over the phone, but to whom I had no idea. I tried to ask who she was yelling at, but she became incensed that I was intruding on her personal life. One thing led to another, and she just ran off to her bedroom, crying. Later, I went off to the grocery store to pick up some food for the upcoming week, but when I returned home, she wasn't there."

"Did you call any of her friends to see if she decided to go off there?"

"Yes, but none of them said that she even appeared in their neighborhoods. That's when I called the police department to file a missing person report."

"Alright. I think that we may have something to work with in explaining this series of events. What else can you tell me?"

"I don't know. As you alluded to, Wilma does not talk about her problems outside of home very much, if at all. In fact, I have to sometimes call the school to find out how she's doing academically."

There was a bit of a pause as we tried to think of what to say next. I was the one who broke the silence: "Above all else, we need to figure out two things. First, we need to figure out some of the things that caused Wilma to go off the way she did; that means that we should go contact her teachers and the like for answers. After that, we need to figure out what we need to do with Wilma."

"What do you mean, 'do with Wilma'?" Susan said.

"Well, as I kind of implored earlier, I think it would be in her best interest to allow her some time to vent in Whitesage…"

"That's ridiculous, eh, what's your name again?"

"My name is Arthur."

"Yes, well, the idea is out of the question. If she spends any time away from school, her grades are going to suffer, and she already has a hard time with her schoolwork as is."

"I understand your concern, Susan. But let me put MY concern up for understanding. At this point, Wilma would probably refuse any effort to return here. And in her state, she might go so far as to kill herself and/or even you over her frustrations." I told Susan. "And I'm pretty sure that we want to prevent this from happening."

"Well, that's true, but…" Susan began, but then Thomas interrupted, saying, "While I appreciate your concerns, Arthur, I really do think it would be in everyone's best interest to get Wilma home as soon as possible. Once we can get her home, we can figure out how we can get her the help she needs."

"Well, let's stop on that point for a minute. The first issue we should implore is what events occurred yesterday that led her to run off. And we should begin by going off to her school and talking with some of her teachers. We should also talk to her swim coach, as you mentioned something about swimming." I said in reply.

Thomas thought about my proposal, and then said, "You're probably right, Arthur. We have only some vague info, and we need to make it more concrete. Very well then, let's get going." He then turned to Susan and said, "Susan, I hope you don't mind if we ask of you to ferry us to Sheffield Secondary."

"No. I'll do whatever is needed to ensure that Wilma gets home safely." She replied. With that, we left the conference room, out of the police station, and towards the parking lot where my vehicle was located. Once there, we climbed into a dark blue sedan (with me in the back seat), and we were off.

Sheffield Secondary (its full name was Herbert Sheffield Secondary Institute) was located some distance away from the police station, on the western parts of Heatherfield. I did not find it surprising to see that it was a large school, but I did find it surprising that the place looked so well kept. After all, I had kind of thought that much like cities themselves, schools within those cities were poorly maintained and were major security risks. When I first got a good glimpse of the place, I said, "Wow. I didn't know that you can afford to send your daughter to a private school, and a very nice private school at that."

Susan replied, "This isn't a private school Arthur. If it was, I wouldn't be able to afford it."

After finding a place to park, we went inside the school walls and then into the school itself. I quickly found out that the school's façade was not skin-deep; it was every bit as nice inside as it was on the outside. And although it was a Saturday, the place was fairly active, as I saw at least three janitors cleaning up the halls.

"So, who are we going to see?" I asked as we began to climb the stairs.

"We're going to see Mrs. Rickenbacker. She's the headmaster of Sheffield Secondary, and is in charge of all permanent records." Susan said. "As Wilma does not like talking about her academic life, I have to call her every now and again to see how she's doing in terms of her grades."

"Is she in her office for today? I mean, it is a Saturday, after all."

"She almost always is." Thomas said. "She's a bit of a workaholic, so unless she's sick or has something else more important at hand, she'll be in her office, though only part-time during the weekends."

From there, we went silent as we continued to climb the stairs until we reached the top floor. There, in the middle of the hallway, was an office labeled Henrietta Rickenbacker, Headmaster. Susan then knocked on the door, and only a few seconds later, an old lady appeared. She appeared to be around her early 60's and had that classic no-nonsense academic vibe that was instantly recognizable. She seemed pretty happy to see us, though.

"Ah, Thomas! Susan! Good to see you two!" she exclaimed. "Please come… wait, who are you?"

I was kind of put off by the immediate change of tone, but I ignored it and said, "My name is Arthur Addlestadt. I've come over here to talk to you in regards of Susan's daughter, Wilma."

"I see. Please come in and be seated." With that, we all stepped into her office, which had a vibe that reinforced what I already figured out about Mrs. Rickenbacker: she was a woman that was not about to be crossed in any way. After we all sat down, Mrs. Rickenbacker then said, "So, what exactly do you want to know about Wilma?"

"Well, in particular, we would like to have access to Wilma's permanent record." I said.

"I see. Well, I've been through this routine before. Hold on." With that, she began typing furiously on her computer and within a minute, she said, "Very well. Here's the current record of one Wilma Vandom, at least for the time she's been here. For the entire record, I'll have to send in a message to Fadden Hills South Secondary School to get a hold of her records there."

I immediately froze once again. _Fadden Hills! How can that be possible? Oh… It must be just something else I heard. I mean, I've never heard of Fadden Hills South Secondary School before!_ But before I could continue with my thought processes, I heard Mrs. Rickenbacker say, "Eh, is there a problem, Mr. Addlestadt?"

"No. I was just thinking, I've never heard of such a place before. I mean, I've heard of Fadden Hills High School before, but I never knew that Fadden Hills SOUTH Secondary School exists." I replied.

"Well, it does." Susan said. "It was where Wilma used to go to school up until about two years ago."

"Why did she leave that school, Susan?"

"It was because Fadden Hills had become unbearable for both of us, though for entirely different reasons. She had a hard time making friends, much less keeping them, and I had plenty of issues in regards to my ex-husband. After one particularly bad day, I decided that we would be better off elsewhere, so we moved here."

"I see. Did academics play a role?"

"Maybe. She never has performed well as a student either in Fadden Hills or in Heatherfield, despite everyone's efforts."

I once again began to freeze up. _OK, this is getting creepy. This can't be true: a woman who shares the same name as Tony's last known girlfriend has a daughter, gets divorced, and then moves to Heatherfield. I can only hope that is the end of the comparisons. I can't take anymore of this._

Once again, I was brought out of my stupor, but this time, it came from Thomas: "Arthur, take a look at this."

I took a look at the computer screen and saw what seemed to be like any other form shown on a computer. "What in particular do you want me to look at?" I said.

"This at the bottom." Thomas said. "See this report? It was made yesterday." I took a look and saw that Wilma had taken three tests that day, and had scored a C+ on biology and literature, and a C on math.

"Hmm. We might have something, people. This might be one of the primary reasons why Wilma ran off."

Mrs. Rickenbacker, who was busy doing some paperwork, immediately looked up, concerned. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, I'm sorry; we forgot to tell you. Wilma ran away from home last night and was found in Whitesage." I said.

Mrs. Rickenbacker became even more concerned, saying, "Whitesage? Where's that?"

"It's about a two-hour drive from here, coming from the Northwest." I said.

"Two hours!"

"Yeah, I know; we're all in a bit of shock about the technical points. Now, we should be getting back to the subject of Wilma's grades. Do you have any significant knowledge regarding these test scores?"

"Not really. I just simply put the test scores and grade averages onto one's record; I don't get that much input from the teachers." Mrs. Rickenbacker explained to me.

"I see." I said. I then turned to Susan and asked, "Susan, what do you make of these grades?"

Susan took a very good look at the grades, and then looked at the grade point average. She then let out a depressed sigh and sagged back into the chair. "Well? What is it?" I asked.

"It's pretty much what I expected from Wilma as a whole, except the biology test." Susan replied. "That's her best subject, and I can't believe that she got such a low grade."

"Hmm. Mrs. Rickenbacker, can I please see Wilma's previous biology test grades from her tenure here?"

"I can't show the test scores, but I can show you her overall grades from the previous semesters." She replied.

"Very well. Can I please see though her records?"

"Of course." Mrs. Rickenbacker said as she turned the computer screen back around so she could see it. A few seconds later, she then turned the screen back over to us, and it showed the grades that Wilma had received from the previous semester. What struck me as interesting was that she had an A for biology, but nothing but Bs of varying degrees in all remaining courses except for math, in which she had a C+.

"Although I'd hate to add any commentary to what you're seeing," Mrs. Rickenbacker said as I was observing the record, "But last semester was Wilma's best semester academically since she's been here at Sheffield Secondary."

"I see. And the GPA last semester was a 3.09. What about the overall average, including this semester so far?" I asked.

"I could pull it up for you, but I think the average that she has attained is about a 3.06. As for the semester so far, it's kind of hard to estimate the score as it's incomplete, but I think it's around a 3.03, if not slightly lower. Let me have the computer screen again for a moment." Once again, Mrs. Rickenbacker turned the screen towards her, and a few seconds later, she turned the screen back over to me. This time it showed all of the significant info regarding Wilma, including her grades. The GPA did in fact show an overall GPA of 3.06, and that so far, the current semester was showing a GPA of 3.03. But what really shook me were the birth-date and the birth-location of Wilma: it showed that her birthday was 1/19/1988, that she was from Fadden Hills, New Brunswick, and that her parents were Tony Cannings and Susan Vandom (divorced). I had never felt so sick in my life the moment I saw that info; every part of my body felt cramped and clammy, and I must have begun to breathe very abnormally because the next thing I heard was Thomas saying, "Are you OK, Arthur?"

All I could manage to say was, "Yeah, I'm OK. I just had a bit of a bad flashback."

"I see." Mrs. Rickenbacker said. "Well, that's as far as I can go I terms of info I can provide you three. I wish I could do more to help, though."

"I understand, Mrs. Rickenbacker. But I would like to talk to Ms. Pronson, provided that she is in her office." Susan said.

"Who's Ms. Pronson?" I asked, still feeling and sounding as if I had just swallowed a block of lead.

"Ms. Pronson is the girls swim coach." Thomas replied. "Remember, one issue that may have led to this situation was her athletics."

"That's a good point. Is her office located up here?"

"No. It's in the athletics wing of the school, on the main floor." Mrs. Rickenbacker said. "I'm sure that both Susan and Thomas can lead you to her office. And by the way, are you SURE that you're OK, Arthur? You've been looking really ill for the last few minutes."

"Yes, I'm alright; thanks for the concern though. Now then, shall we go to see Ms. Pronson?"

"Yeah, we should." Susan said, "We'll be back in a few minutes."

We then got up and left Mrs. Rickenbacker's office. Once the door was closed, I then said, "Where is the closest bathroom?"

"It's across the hall, Arthur." Thomas said.

After hearing that, I walked into the bathroom. When I got a good look in the mirror, I understood why Mrs. Rickenbacker and the others were concerned about me appearance: I was sweating a lot and my face had begun to droop, as if it was made of wax and it was starting to melt. Noticing this, I began splashing some cold water onto to my face in an attempt to keep it together. I must have been in there for a long time, for what seemed to be just a few seconds later I heard the door open and then heard Thomas say, "Arthur, is something wrong? You've been in the bathroom for about five minutes!"

I stopped and said, "Eh, well… Is Susan anywhere near here?"

Thomas face got all scrunched up, as if he was having a hard time believing what I was saying. He then said, "Arthur, we're in the men's bathroom. What do you think?"

"Right. I just don't want Susan to know about who I really am, at least not right now."

"Know what?"

"Thomas, I think that I'm technically Wilma's uncle."

"But there's no connection between you and either of Wilma's parents."

"Yes there is. Her father, Tony, is my step-brother."

There was a short silence between us, and then I said, "I know what you're thinking, Thomas, but let me tell her, and not now. I need to gather my thoughts."

"Well, OK." Thomas said. "Arthur, Susan and I are going to see Ms. Pronson now. I was wondering if you wanted to come along."

"Of course. It is as much my problem now as it is Susan's, and I want to know everything I can to make things right in the end."

"Are you going to be alright, Arthur? You don't look all that great."

"No. I'll be fine. If necessary, I'll go find the medical ward and lie down for a bit." With that, I followed Thomas out of the bathroom and into the hallway, where Susan was waiting. She too was a bit shocked to see me in my current state. "Are you OK Arthur?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. Don't worry about me." I said as we went down the stairs.

The three of us continued down the staircases until we reached the bottom floor and what was being called the athletics wing of the school, which was in the back. Once there, we walked towards the office section. Like before, there was a hallway where all of the athletic offices were located on either side, but there were no bathrooms in this hallway and it was shorter. We went all the way down the hall until we came across the office labeled Stephanie Pronson, Girls' Swimming and Diving. As before, we knocked on the door, hoping that we would be able to get a response. Once again, we were pleasantly surprised to get a response, this time from an athletic-looking woman roughly the age of Susan, but with short blond hair. "Is there something I can do for you all?" she asked when she saw all of us.

"Yes." Thomas said. "If you could let us into your office for a moment, we can explain."

Without saying a word, she motioned us into her office and opened the door further. We all went into the office, which was sparsely decorated outside of some pictures and awards she had won during her days as a swimmer. "Well, I already know who you are." Ms. Pronson said, eyeing Susan. "But who are you two?"

"I'm Officer Thomas Lair of the Heatherfield Police Department, and this to my right is Arthur Addlestadt of Whitesage." Thomas said. "We're here because Susan's daughter Wilma ran away from home yesterday and was found by Arthur later that evening. We met with the headmaster, Mrs. Rickenbacker, to try and find out if there was something that occurred that day which could explain why she went off the deep end the way she did. One thing she suggested was to meet with you."

As with Mrs. Rickenbacker, Ms. Pronson became very concerned once she heard that Wilma had run off. However, her concern quickly dissipated when we stopped talking; she was likely one of those overly professional types that were not easily swayed by events outside of their own lives. After a short silence, Ms. Pronson said, "Well, if you've already visited Mrs. Rickenbacker, you'll probably have one good reason why Wilma might have run off."

"You mean her grades." I said.

"Yes. As you know, or should know, our school system requires that all student athletes have at least a 3.0 GPA in order to participate in athletic endeavors. And while Wilma has kept that GPA above 3.0 since she has been here, I have constantly reminded her and her mother that she needs to do better academically if she wants to stay on the swim team's active roster." She responded. "In particular, Wilma's grades for this semester have been lower than usual, and so I have been recently been pushing Wilma to get academic help; where it can come from is beyond me, and it's not a critical issue."

"Is there anything else that could explain why Wilma ran off that you know of?" Susan asked.

"Not that I… Wait. You said that Wilma ran off yesterday, right?"

"That's correct, Ms. Pronson." Thomas said.

"Hm. Well, I guess that it might have to do with the reshuffling of the swim team's lineup." Ms. Pronson responded, sounding a little guilty and looking away from us as she was speaking.

"Reshuffling?"

"Yes. You see, while Wilma is a dedicated swimmer, she has not performed as well as I have hoped. In all of her events in the past year, she has yet to win any of them, and it has kept us from being truly competitive in our swim meets." She said. "Therefore, while it pained me to do so, I decided to move Wilma into the backup section of all freestyle events. I was hoping that with fewer events on her schedule that Wilma would perform better in the relay competitions and also give her a chance to improve her grades."

"But why didn't you call me to tell me this?" Susan asked.

"I did, but either you never got my message or it got erased. I do remember calling you around 5:00 PM last evening." Ms. Pronson said in response.

"Hm. Maybe Wilma ended up getting the message while I was away and she didn't want me to hear it. Did you talk to Wilma about this?"

"Yes I did. She seemed to take it pretty well, but I guess she was putting up a façade to mask her disappointment and frustration. I would probably do the same thing if I were her."

"I think we'd all feel that way, Ms. Pronson." Thomas said. "I guess then that there's no other insight that you can provide for us on Wilma."

"That would be true, Officer. If there's anything else you need from me, just let me know. My number is part of the school directory." Ms. Pronson said.

"Understood. Have a nice day." With that, the three of us left. I felt a little better know, but I still felt a bit ill.

We walked back up the staircases and back into Mrs. Rickenbacker's office; she was not surprised at all to see us again. "Well, did you get any new info about Wilma from Ms. Pronson?" she said as we walked back into her office.

"Yes we did." Thomas said. "Besides the academic point, we found that she had been moved to reserve status in all events except for the relay events."

"I see. Well, that might explain some things, but it probably is a small piece of the overall puzzle."

"That is true, Mrs. Rickenbacker. But I think we need to find out what we do from here in regards to Wilma."

"Right. Now as far as I'm concerned, it would probably be best to get Wilma back in school as soon as possible. It would be considered foolish to let her stay out of school for any length, especially for someone whose grades are faltering."

Once again, I became dubious about what was being planned; after all, this was a teenage girl who had run away from home for a variety of reasons, and I for one didn't want her to go off half-cocked again. "Eh, excuse me, Mrs. Rickenbacker." I said almost immediately after she finished. "Although I respect your authority and decisions on what to do with your students, I disagree with your plan."

Mrs. Rickenbacker looked at me, thinking that I had a few screws loose. "Why?" she asked.

"Well, think about it for a minute. We just had a girl run away from home and into a town some two hours away. We do not have enough info from the girl, or her contacts, on what caused her to run off like that, much less how she got that far. And above anything else, she might not want to come back home. Don't you think we should try to have her settle down a bit and then we can pump her for information?"

"Arthur, that idea is utterly ridiculous. To be fair, I understand your concerns for her, but I for one would loathe thinking about what might happen if her grades slip any lower."

"Yes. But I loathe to think what would happen if we send Wilma back here to Heatherfield, only to have her run away again, or worse."

"That is a concern, Arthur, but I think her grades are the more critical issue."

"Well, about this as an idea, Mrs. Rickenbacker." I explained. "How about you contact Wilma's teachers and they can send her the homework required for her courses, but with the alteration that they are not from here. That way, she won't see me as a front for this school, and that maybe she'll do a better job with her school work."

"Well, that's not the worst idea in the world." Susan said. "But I really don't think that I'd put the trust of my daughter's welfare in a total stranger."

"Nor do I like it all that much myself." Thomas added. "Legally speaking, I do not think that something of this nature has ever happened, nor would it ever happen. I'd hate to think about all of the legal red tape we'd all have to go through in order to pull this off."

"And lest we forget, there is no real substitute for being in a classroom, talking to a teacher if something comes up." Mrs. Rickenbacker stated. "Beyond that, I don't see how we could implement such a plan without something going awry."

"Well, at least let me give my perspective on my idea." I said.

"Very well then." Mrs. Rickenbacker said. "State your case."

"Thank you." After clearing my throat, I then said, "As far as I'm aware, we live in a very competitive and stressful world. We are always in a rat race for something, and we at times go all out to try and capture it, even when we know it's unhealthy. I should know, because I, along with everyone else in this room, have experienced this. In my case, the world that I was living in would become so much at times that I would stop functioning. On more than one occasion, based on both personal and academic issues, I would need a break from the outside world in an attempt to assess my priorities and start anew. In this way, I learned a very valuable lesson: while being in the rat race for our ultimate goals sounds worthwhile, it is an illusion of the worst kind that ruins our state of being in every way imaginable.

This has not changed much in today's world, though with the quickening advances in technology, the pace of the race has gotten faster, and the competition and related stresses more severe. More so than ever, our offspring are running themselves ragged to accomplish things we could never have dreamed possible, but at a greater risk of unspeakable tragedy. I fear that Wilma is one of those people who, for several reasons, suffered a monumental emotional meltdown. Had it not been for me, we might be dealing with funeral arrangements instead of a missing person, and I'm afraid that if we put her back on the track, she might run off it again, and who knows what might happen the second time around. And if she decides not to run away but does something else, I do not wish to imagine the consequences. I therefore propose that she takes a break in Whitesage for her to get her affairs in order and to start anew. I promise you that, given time and understanding from our community, we will make Wilma into a better person, both in her eyes and everyone who knows her here in Heatherfield. That is all I ask for, and I hope that it comes to pass." I then sat down and waited for a response.

Mrs. Rickenbacker was the first to speak: "I understand stand your points of concern, Arthur. And to be honest, I think your idea is fairly sound, but there are a few problems that will prevent the plan from going forward."

"You mean my idea for you send assignments to her?"

"Well that is a concern, but another concern is how to set up the program you've proposed. I can't allow any one of my students to do any study outside of the school without prior approval from me, the parents/guardians of the said student, and the town of study itself."

"I see." I said. I then turned towards Susan and asked, "Susan, is it OK if we set up this program for your daughter?"

She kind of looked at the floor, then at Mrs. Rickenbacker, Thomas, and finally towards me. "Well, I guess if it's alright with Mrs. Rickenbacker and Thomas, then it's alright with me." I immediately turned towards Thomas, to whom he said, "To be honest, I'm not totally comfortable with the plan. However, you made a valid point regarding Wilma general condition and the consequences therein of returning her back home too quickly; we shouldn't take such a risk. Therefore, I'll allow it." I finally turned towards Mrs. Rickenbacker, who said, "Eh, though I usually like playing the devil's advocate in most situations, when the welfare of a student is at stake, doing so would be incredibly irresponsible. I'll sponsor the program in as long as Whitesage is willing to sponsor it."

"Great!" I exclaimed. "I bet you'd like to talk to their minister of education about this, Mrs. Rickenbacker."

"Provided that the minister is in their office, Arthur; it is a Saturday after all." She replied.

"Well, you're here in your office, Mrs. Rickenbacker. I think that someone in a more important position would be in their office as well. Here, I'll write down the numbers for both the minister of education's office and home."

With that, I wrote down the phone numbers for Mrs. Rickenbacker to call. She took a good look at them and said, "OK then. I'll try to see what I can arrange." She then picked up the phone and from what I heard called the office of minister of education. However, she must have not been in the office at the time, because she hung up after a while and said, "Well, the minister is obviously not in his or her office. I'll try the home phone number." She had more success with the home phone number: Mrs. Rickenbacker was able to get a hold of the minister of education, and through a lot of discussion over the phone that included me and Susan on occasion, the plan that I had proposed was approved for one week.

"Well, I guess that takes care of it, at least for now." Mrs. Rickenbacker said. "I will admit that it will be rather tricky to get the assignments to her, though."

"In as long as the teachers have E-Mail addresses, I can be able to receive the assignments from them." I said. "If I could once again, I'd like to write down my E-Mail address for you to distribute to the teachers in question. It would also be advantageous if I do the same for Thomas and Susan."

"Yes, I agree. Here's the paper and pencil."

With that, I wrote down my E-Mail address three separate times. When I was done, I ripped the piece of paper in two separate areas so that everyone in the room had an E-Mail address copy. "There. I'm pretty sure that should take care of that." I said. "Is there anything else that we need to cover before we go?"

"Not that I know of, Arthur." Mrs. Rickenbacker replied. "Unless Thomas and Susan have any other questions and/or concerns they would like to address." With that, I looked back towards Susan and Thomas to get their reactions.

"I don't have any more issues, and you know what number to contact if something comes up." Thomas said.

"I can't think of anything either." Susan stated.

"OK then. Thank you very much for bringing this situation to my attention." Mrs. Rickenbacker said. The three of us then got up, said our goodbyes to Mrs. Rickenbacker, and then we left the office and the school-grounds a few minutes later.

From there, we returned to the police station, as Susan and I needed to get our motor vehicles back from the nearby parking lot. After finding another conference room to occupy, Thomas then asked, "I guess I should ask the same thing as Arthur did. Is there anything else that we need to cover before we end this meeting?"

"Well, I can't think of anything significant." Susan said. "What about you, Arthur?"

"There is one point that I'd like to cover before we call this meeting closed, and that would be Wilma's friends, provided that she has any." I said. "Now Thomas, I hear that your daughter is a friend of Wilma's; is she the only one?"

"No." Thomas replied. "Besides Irma, my daughter, Wilma is friends with three other girls by the names of Taranee, Cornelia, and Hay Lin. They are also friends with Irma."

"OK then. Would it be possible for me to get their E-Mail addresses and/or phone numbers?"

"Of course. I should warn you however that Irma can go on for hours on the phone."

"I see. Is there anyone else that I should seriously think about contacting?"

"I can't think of anyone else to contact." Thomas said. "What about you, Susan?"

"I can't… wait! Matt Olson! Maybe he knows something about the situation." Susan exclaimed.

"Susan, who is that?" I asked.

"That's Wilma's boyfriend. Maybe he would know something about the situation. Would it be possible to E-Mail his contact info to you?"

"Yes, any additional info would be helpful to me. Anything else?"

After a long silence, Thomas said, "Well, I guess that about takes care of stuff for right now. As I now have your contact info, I expect that you will be in constant contact with me and/or Susan to see how Wilma is doing."

"I understand, Thomas." I replied.

"OK then. You two have a good day." With that, Susan and I got up from the table, and we each shook Thomas's hand. From there, we walked out of the police station. But as I went to my motor vehicle, Susan said, "Eh, thanks for finding and dealing with Wilma, Arthur."

"No problem, Susan." I replied.

"I didn't think about this much during our meetings at the school, but you kind of remind me of someone I knew back when I was in high school."

I began to feel sick again. "What do you mean?" I said as I was trying hard not to look ill.

"Well, almost two decades ago, I remember a guy who was related somehow to my ex-husband. He seemed so flaky and contradictory back then. Now, looking back at him and what he told me about Tony, I should have heeded the warning." She paused for a minute, and then said, "In fact, that guy had the same first name that you have!"

"A bit of a coincidence, I presume." I replied, feeling more uncomfortable for every second that she was looking at me. "Do you ever see Tony anymore?"

"I haven't seen Tony, much less spoke to him, in years. He left Fadden Hills not long after we divorced, and I haven't heard from him since."

"Do you get any child support money from him?"

"Yes. At times it doesn't seem nearly enough, though."

"I see." I paused for a bit to think about what move I needed to make next, and I thought that it would be in my best interest to get moving; it was a two-hour drive after all. From that I said, "Listen, Susan. I've got to get ready to go. It'll take about two hours to get back to Whitesage, and I really don't want to go drive in the dark."

"I understand. Well, try to stay in contact with me, OK?"

"I will. I'll be sure to send a message to you as soon as I get back."

"OK then. I'll be waiting for it. Bye." With that, Susan left for her car, whereas I entered my own and drove out of the parking lot.

On the way back, I constantly felt ill. _How could this happen?_ I asked myself. _How could a philanderer like Tony actually reproduce? It just doesn't make any sense._ I kept having this thought numerous times as I traveled back, as well as thoughts about how I would keep Wilma from going stir-crazy while she was kept there for a week. Of course, I was also wondering about the how and why Wilma got to Whitesage in the first place. All of this kept me feeling bad, not only for myself but for everyone that was involved in this mess. I knew that the necessities for this day couldn't be helped, but I still felt rather guilty about explaining myself to the police and her mother.

It was around 4:30 PM when I finally arrived home. I was pleasantly surprised to see that the gate had not been unlocked since I had left, so to my mind Wilma had not run away again. After unlocking the gate, I drove the car into the garage and then closed the garage door. From there, I entered the house via the garage door.

As expected, Sven was extremely happy to see me. Resting in the middle of the room, he sprung up the moment he heard the door close behind me. "Hi Sven!" I said as he bounded over to me. "Did you miss me?" After petting him for a little bit and putting my stuff onto the kitchen table, I then shouted, "Wilma! I'm back!" But when I didn't get a response, I began to panic. "Wilma? Where are you? I'm back!" I shouted again. This time I sort of got a response in the form of a low groan coming from the guest room. I went in there to check it out, and that's where I saw Wilma, sitting half-asleep on top of the futon I set up for her.

"I'm sorry, Wilma. I didn't know you were taking a nap." I said. She kind of mumbled something, but I couldn't make out the words. I then said, "Well, I'm back. Did you have any problems while I was gone?" In response, she shook her head no. "That's good to hear. I'll let you go back to sleep, and when you feel hungry, just let me know and I'll get some food for you. I'll be in the main room if you need me." I replied. I then made my way to the door and walked into the main room, where I was just about to reach for the book 'Moby Dick' when I heard a door open. I looked back and I saw Wilma, still looking rather tired and also somewhat irritated.

"Is there something you need, Wilma?" I asked.

"Why is your house so… boring?" Wilma replied.

"What do you mean 'boring'?"

"Well, not long after you left, I began walking about the house to see what there was, and there's nothing here! All you've got is a TV in the basement, and it wasn't even plugged in! And when I turned it on, it doesn't get basic cable!"

"Yeah, so? I don't need it, much less want it. Besides, it would eat up my money."

"But you don't have anything essential!"

"I have the essentials, Wilma. I've got clothing on my back, access to food and water, and a roof over my head. All said I'm in good shape."

Wilma just stared at me, wondering if I had lost it. She then said, "Arthur, that's not what I meant. I meant the stuff that 'normal' people would consider essential. And it's not just the cable or dish TV, you don't have a computer, you don't even have a cell phone! How can you possibly live?"

"I live!" I stated, feeling rather annoyed to have to explain my lifestyle to my niece. "I mean, it may seem kind of primitive compared to the outside world, but I live. And I'm not the only one. There are tons of people in Whitesage that live without what you'd call 'essential' materials."

"But how then do you keep yourself from going insane?"

"Well, I have a small library, and you'd be more than welcome…"

"Eww. I'm trying to keep myself from becoming less bored Arthur, not more bored. Besides, reading gives me brain cramps."

"Wilma, how can you say this sort of thing?" I exclaimed. "While I admit that there are plenty of books that leave much to be desired, I collect only the best books around. I've got a good number of the classics, like Moby Dick, David Copperfield…"

"Those are all books that were written ages ago, Arthur! And they're all stupid!"

"They are NOT stupid, Wilma! They are timeless works of literary genius! You don't find books like this being written anymore!"

At that, Wilma just kind of shrank and then slumped onto the couch. "What is this place?" She said while looking at the floor. "No cable or dish TV, no computers, and no cell phones. Has everyone here gone nuts?"

"No." I responded. "This is just the way we people in Whitesage see and do things. And it's almost always been that way."

"But why, Arthur? Why is everything so… eh…"

"Technologically deficient?" I suggested.

"I was thinking more of technologically non-existent, Arthur." She replied. "Why is, eh, Whitesage is the name of this town, right?"

"That's correct."

"OK. Why is Whitesage like this?"

"It's because we've always seen it this way. People in Whitesage don't put as much faith into technology the same way that other people do. We tend to put more of our time and energy into things that transcend technology, like our relations with each other and our relations with the divine power or powers, as the case may be. We don't see that much of a need for technological advancement because the town at large feels that it degrades those relationships, as well as our sense of what it means to be a creature on this planet, or any other planet for that matter."

"But who thought of this? And why do so many people believe in it?"

"It's because this place used to be a hippie commune, Wilma."

"It was?"

"Yes. Of course, it's a fairly shallow description. I could tell you all I know about how Whitesage began, but it'll take a while to explain it all."

Wilma looked at the clock, which stated 4:35 PM, and then looked back at me. She then said, "I guess it would be better than just sitting around and being bored."

"I'd expected you to say that. OK, here it goes." I said. I then cleared my throat, and I began telling the story.

"In order to understand Whitesage as a whole, one first must understand its creators." I told Wilma. "One of these creators was the former Stupidian Kyle White."

"Stupidian?" Wilma asked, not surprisingly.

"Yes. I know it sounds rather harsh, but that's what we people call people in the nation south of us."

"But why not call it by its normal name?"

"We have our reasons, many of which will be revealed during this talk. In any case, try not to say the official name in Whitesage. People here are very touchy about it."

"I understand."

"Good. To begin, Kyle White was part of the Baby Boomer generation; in particular, he was born in early September of 1950 around the Buffalo region. With the exceptions of the Korean Conflict and the Cold War that was in its early phases, times were good. There was plenty to go around in Stupidia as well as here in every way imaginable, and people made the most of it. It was, above all else, a time where the sky was the limit on what we could achieve. But it was also a time of cultural conformity, and it indirectly sowed the seeds of its destruction.

Not much of Kyle's childhood was known, but it's believed that it was typical of the livelihoods found in the region and of the middle class. However, like so many of his generation, things began to change, and in ways that they could not imagine or accept."

"Like what?"

"Cultural matters. Although most of it was kept under the radar, over time the Baby Boomers began to see the culture of Stupidia to be, well, rather stupid. They were dismayed about the lack of progress in terms of minorities' rights, particularly for those of the black lineages. They were disgusted about gender inequality, both privately and professionally. They were sickened by environmental degradation brought about by rampant development and consumerism. They were opposed their government's actions in other parts of the world, namely Vietnam, especially since they were the ones who were paying the ultimate price for their folly. And they were fed up with the traditional constructs of freedom and liberty, which they felt were shallow in their meaning.

It was during the second half of the 1960s that all of these energies, along with the people who held them in their hearts, began to bleed out into the Stupidian society. Known as the counterculture by their parents, they set out to change society to their whims, but their efforts were largely in vain: few people outside of their generation took them seriously. Though most never gave up the fight to change Stupidia to the ways they saw fit, quite a few of them left for Canada, for various reasons. Most were trying to avoid the military draft set up by the Stupidian government for their fight in Vietnam, but there were plenty of those who saw Stupidia as a lost cause, and felt that they would be better accepted up here. Kyle White was one of those who fit in the latter group: he left Stupidia not because of Vietnam, like so many men of his generation claimed, but because of his views, especially his religious views."

"Religious views?"

"Yes Wilma. Only a few years before, Kyle White became infatuated with paganism."

"Paganism? What's that?"

"Eh, it's kind of a long topic to discuss in itself. It would be best for me to focus on this topic first."

"I see. You have to promise me to tell me what paganism is later, though."

"I promise. Now, back to the story.

Like his childhood, no one really knows how he discovered paganism or why he was drawn to it. But in the overall sense it shouldn't have come as a surprise. As the counterculture began to develop, most things that were connected to their parents were discarded, religious beliefs included. It was perhaps understandable because back then, Stupidians were either Christian or Jewish, and there wasn't much talk about spiritual matters that were not considered part of the accepted cultural agenda. As a result, the counterculture looked to other faiths to set up an agenda that more coincided with their views. Most of the choices made were seen as unnerving but harmless in the eyes of their elders, but there were a few that they saw as blasphemous, and paganism was one of them.

Kyle never told his parents or anyone else about his religious views, because of the fear of what kind of reaction he would get from them. But he grew increasingly uncomfortable with living in a community that was dominated by the accepted religious establishment, and he also feared about what would happen if he was drafted into military service and the complications that would follow with it. So, in early 1968, Kyle White left Stupidia for Canada."

"So, what happened then?"

"Not long after he came into Canada, he got to work with a newspaper company in Hamilton. It should have been a good, solid life for Kyle, but it wasn't. Back then, the Canadian social order was nearly as conformity-minded as the Stupidians were. To be fair, paganism was not a type of faith that one would normally come across, but the fact that he found so few people that were even somewhat accepting of paganism was a crushing blow to his spirits and his beliefs. But it was during that initial despair that an event occurred that would change everything for him."

"And that was?"

"A dream. While he slept one night after a particularly hard day at work, he had a dream. The details remain fairly sketchy, but in the dream a voice in the back of his head told him to look for a red sage, and that together they would create a society unlike anything seen in North America."

"So Kyle had a dream that, once he found a 'red sage', they would create a society based upon this thing called paganism?"

"Well, at the time he was unsure what he had experienced, and he didn't think too much of it at the time. But roughly a month after this dream occurred, Kyle was sent to Alberta to cover the Calgary Stampede, that province's yearly western carnival. It was there that he saw the other significant individual to Whitesage's creation: a Sarcee tribesman by the name of Robert Red Sage."

"That must be the part of the dream that Kyle had."

"At least that's what was assumed when he first met Robert. You have to remember that dreams, like any other form of divine display, are vague by design. But Kyle was adamant that this was what his dream meant by 'red sage', and he made his point to Robert."

"Hold on a second. I know that Robert was a Sarcee, but was there anything else that could, you know, give me a clearer picture of him?"

"You mean his back story?"

"Exactly."

"Well, even less is known about him in comparison to Kyle White. Besides his tribal connections, he was in his early 60s."

"OK, that's a little better. I mean, that's not what I wanted in full, but I guess that's better than nothing."

"I understand. Well, after coming across Robert Red Sage, he decided that, before he could talk to him about his dream, he decided to do a story about the tribe for the newspaper. He asked for permission to do the story and it was granted. And to his good fortune, Robert took a liking towards him. It certainly made Kyle more comfortable when he told him about his dream and what it meant."

"So what did Robert think of the dream?"

"The answer was very surprising. About the same time that Kyle had his dream, Robert had a similar dream: according to what was said, Robert dreamt of a small community different from that of anything he had ever seen in real life. The two discussed their dreams and from that, they decided to act on those dreams. They decided right then and there that they were going to create their community."

"I see. But if Kyle had a hard time finding anyone who was accepting of his views on this 'paganism', whatever that means, then how did the two get Whitesage set up? And what's the deal with the name Whitesage, anyway?"

"Those are very good questions, Wilma. First, Kyle never really tried hard to find people that shared his views as he was afraid of raising the ire of the Canadian social fabric. Robert, on the other hand, was far more assertive on getting stuff done, and therefore began to search and advertise the ideas he and Kyle had set up. He in particular looked to the Stupidian expats, as they tended to be those whose worldviews coincided more with Kyle's. After just ten weeks of searching and advertising, they had gathered over 300 signatures of individuals who wanted to get involved in this great journey. Second, the name of the town Whitesage came from a suggestion from one of the first citizens of the place."

"Alright. So a former 'Stupidian' and a Sarcee got together to create a town, and they got about 300 signatures from individuals who may have also been 'pagans', and the town was eventually named Whitesage. But why did they choose this place to build the town?"

"The reason for this location was that in mid 1968, word was coming out that the ravine and the adjacent area was going to be used as a landfill, or something along those lines. Being avid environmentalists, there was a huge push by the counterculture to prevent the development from happening. It wasn't until October of that year that the Canadian government ruled in favor of them. But just to be sure, a large donation pool was set up for a stewardship project in that area, and enough money was donated to create Whitesage. On February 2nd of 1969, which also happened to be Robert Red Sage's birthday, 280 people founded the colony of Whitesage. The pagan community that Kyle had dreamt of had finally come to fruition. However, as far as he and Robert were concerned, things would not go nearly as planned."

"How so?"

"Well, at the same time, there were quite a few other attempts to create communes separate from the rest of society in Stupidia and to a lesser extent up here as well. And like Whitesage, they were mostly bereft of technology. People back then didn't realize how hard life is without much of the technology they took for granted, and that produced a lot of hardship within the colonies. But even more so, they underestimated our inherent human nature. Despite what was commonly believed, that being the social mores of the time were responsible for the insolence going on, human nature doesn't change that much beyond the mores. Over time, the counterculture began to unravel as they began to revert to the same basic behaviors as their parents had. It was then no surprise that many of these colonies failed not long after their founding. But the Whitesage colony was different. It didn't fail due to people not taking responsibility for what was happening in their communities; instead, it 'failed' because it was too popular."

"How is that possible?"

"It was due to the publicity. Though Kyle and Robert's efforts officially ended when the colony was founded, news about this new colony, based upon ideals and faiths that resonated with so many young people, was so overwhelming that people throughout Canada simply just grabbed their belongings and left for the colony. In fact, the population of Whitesage roughly doubled within the first ten weeks. To Kyle and Robert, it was clear that a simple colony structure would not work, not with all of the people coming in. So, it was with considerable disdain from everyone in the colony that both Kyle and Robert decided to turn Whitesage into an actual town, complete with the amenities that their parents enjoyed. Over the next several months, Kyle, Robert, and many of the higher ups in both the community and the Canadian government began to set up plans to make Whitesage not just a town, but a semi-separate country."

"You mean like Hong Kong and Macao are to China."

"Exactly, though the line between the two were significantly more ambiguous. There were many things that were part of the agenda, ranging from government structures to economic models. It was a long, frustrating process on what was to be done with the Whitesage area, but afterwards everyone involved said that they were very satisfied with the results. On the first anniversary of Whitesage's founding, the new mini-republic of Whitesage was granted by her majesty the Queen of the British Commonwealth. When that day occurred, there were roughly 1,300 individuals living there, nearly five times the number of people that lived there when the colony was first founded. Today, about 35 years later, there are about 17,700 people living here."

"That's very interesting. But it still doesn't answer my primary question: why does Whitesage forego so much in the way of technology?"

"That invisible policy is linked to the whole environmental issue. Because so much of our modern stuff uses energy in order to function, and because so much of that energy comes from refined fossils and nuclear materials, it tends to make the world environment worse off. As a result, technological tools that you are used to in your daily life and even many tools that normal people of your parents' age for that matter are not as prevalent here, though the younger generations are more technologically accepting than the old-timers ever will be."

"OK. At least now I know why it seems so boring out here. I still don't like it though."

Without saying anything, I got up and walked over to Sven's food bowl. Almost immediately, Sven got up from his bed and bounded over to me as if he had been half-starved. After getting Sven settled away, I turned back to Wilma and said, "I think it might be a while for me to get something cooking. How about we order a pizza?"

"OK. I could go for a pizza about right now." Wilma said.

"I thought you'd be receptive about the idea, Wilma." I replied. "Just let me take out Sven so he can do his business, and then we can get going."

"Alright, Arthur." With that, I hooked up Sven to his leash and we went outside so that he could do his business. After about ten minutes, Sven had done his stuff and I had cleaned up what I could. We then walked back into the house, with Wilma still sitting on the couch.

"OK then, Wilma. Get your jacket on; we're going to Ralph's." I said.

"Is that a local pizzeria?"

"Yes. It's the only pizzeria that you can find here in Whitesage, unless you have something against independent pizzeria pizzas."

"No. I just never heard of the place. And I thought we would be getting carry-out."

"Sorry, but it's too much work to drive to and from Ralph's to bring home a pizza, and I'm sick and tired of driving." I explained. "Besides, it's close enough to walk over there and the pizza tastes better fresh from the oven."

"Well, then. I'll get my jacket on, and then we can get going." Wilma replied as she walked back to the guest room. A few seconds later, she reappeared in the same jacket as the night before. We then left the house, with me locking it up of course, and then we were on our way.

As we walked down the streets to Ralph's, Wilma said, "Wow. This neighborhood looks nice, though I'd admit that it seems a bit repetitive."

"Yeah. It's kind of like that. I know it's ironic, but everything here is fairly standardized in Whitesage, including the dwellings." I replied. "Of course, like everything else here, there's a good reason for it."

"It is related to environmentalism?"

"In a way, yes. But in another way, it was to deal with space concerns, cramming in as many people as possible into what has become a very small place. When the Whitesage government first heard about New Urbanism, many of its policies became part of our development policy until New Pedestrianism came around."

"What are those?"

"Both of them are population center development schemes designed to mitigate development sprawl. The first of these, New Urbanism, was first used in Stupidia in the 1980s, and has since become adopted in part by many places in both Stupidia and Canada. New Pedestrianism is a more recent and somewhat more radical version of New Urbanism that replaced it not long after the concepts were launched."

"I see. What's your take on them?"

"They work out well, though I will admit that the dwellings here, whether an apartment or a house is pretty small: they won't build any houses that have a floor area greater than 450 square meters."

"Wow. That's awfully small." Wilma said. After a short break, Wilma then said, "So, how big is your place?"

"You know, I don't really remember. But it was certainly bigger than the apartment I lived in before then." After a short break, Wilma said, "I'm noticing something, Arthur."

I turned to her and said, "Yes?"

"Well, every house is pointing the same way, and also there's something rather weird sitting on top of each house. It's looks like some goofy spire…"

"Oh, that's another thing about Whitesage housing units. They are built according to Vedic codes in addition to environmental codes." I stated.

"What are Vedic codes?" Wilma asked.

"In terms of buildings, they are oriented so the entrances are facing east and the ornaments are meant to generate harmony inside the dwelling. Housing units get both of these treatments, but all buildings get the special ornamentation.

"I see." Wilma said. "I was curious about seeing the houses all the same, or almost all the same."

A few minutes later, we arrived at Ralph's, which was not surprisingly busy knowing it was a Saturday night. Throughout Ralph's, I could see all sorts of people munching away at a variety of pizzas and talking about what they had done so far this weekend and what else they wanted to get done, as well as the Samhain discussions that were typical for this time of year. Ignoring them, I walked over to the short line that was ahead of me.

I must have only waited about a good 1-2 minutes before I got to fill my order. A young Caucasian man, somewhere in the 2nd half of his 20s, took my order. Acting on instinct, I ordered a large vegetarian combo; I figured that there would be leftovers that Wilma could munch on later. After the order was confirmed, I was given a number (27) and both Wilma and myself took an open table in the left side of the eating area. After sitting down, Wilma asked, "So Arthur, what do you do for a living?"

"You mean like how I get money to feed myself and the like?"

"Yeah, that sort of thing."

"To the best of my knowledge, I'm a merchant." I told Wilma. "I sell various goods to the public, ranging from religious supplies for both major and minor occasions to jewelry and various fabrics for making clothes. But I also do a lot of accounting stuff as well, as I have an associate's degree in that field." I then paused and said, "What occupation do you want to get involved in?"

"Eh… geez, can't you ask another question? I don't know what I can be at this point."

I immediately realized that my question had rubbed her the wrong way, and knowing what she had gone through, I quickly said, "OK, maybe that was a bit out of bounds. A better question would be: would you like to see me work at my place tomorrow? It won't bore you as much, that's for certain."

Wilma looked at me, puzzled at first at my suggestion. But then she understood what I was trying to get at, and she said, "Sure, if that's OK with your boss, if that boss is not you, I mean."

"You can just say yes, Wilma." I replied. "I should be able to work something out for you. I must mind you though, that it may be for only a few hours, as I will be attending religious services tomorrow, and I therefore work only half a day."

"That's fine, Arthur. I don't mind at all."

From there, I heard a call coming from the counter, saying, "Number 27! Your pizza is ready!" Excusing myself from the table, I went over to pick up the pizza from the counter and brought it back. After setting the pizza down, I said, "It would be best to let the pizza sit out for a good ten minutes to cool down. We should get some drinks in the meantime."

With that Wilma got up from the table and we both walked over to the soda-pop fountain. After getting our drinks (we both got lemonade), we made our way back to the table. Once situated, I said, "I hope you like the vegetarian combo pizza; that's my favorite type."

"It'll work." Wilma said. Then, after a few seconds, she said, "Let me guess. Most people in Whitesage are vegetarians."

"You're right, Wilma. About half of the Whitesage population can be accurately called vegetarians."

"Are you one of them?"

"No. But those who do decide to eat 'flesh foods' as they are commonly called here is done infrequently, me included. Some of it is based on just the cultural aspects of this place, but there's also a 'flesh food' tax that makes them significantly more expensive than what you're probably used to." After another short break, I then said, "How did you know that?"

"I didn't KNOW, Arthur, it was just a guess. And thinking about it, it shouldn't have come as such a surprise to me." Wilma answered.

We then both eyed the pizza, wondering if it had cooled enough for both of us to eat it. "You know, Arthur, it would be really helpful if they would put the pizzas in a freezer for 1-2 minutes after they were cooked." Wilma remarked. "It doesn't make any sense for anyone to burn the insides of their mouth from eating overly hot pizza or otherwise halfway starving in order to cool down the way it is now."

"So you're really hungry." I said

"More so that I've been since I started staring at this pizza for… how long has it been?"

After checking the clock on the wall, I said, "About five minutes. If you want to take a slice now, you can go ahead. I only wait about ten minutes because of what you said about hot pizza."

"You mean burning the insides of your mouth?"

"I would prefer to use the term 'one's mouth', but yes, both in the sense that it has happened before and that it has happened to me."

Wilma halfway cracked a smile, the first time she had done so in this odd 'visit'; I suspect that she thought that my plight was rather funny. She then reached out and got herself a slice of pizza from the plate and took a small bite. She mumbled a few low but satisfying 'Mmm' sounds as she ate that first bite. From there, she reached for her cup of lemonade and took a significant gulp from the cup. After wiping her lips and chin with a napkin, she then said, "This is really good! Much better than what I usually get."

"And that would be…"

"Eh… you know, the usual stuff."

"I see. Is the pizza still overly hot?"

"It's not that bad, but as a starting point, I would do what I just did."

"You mean take a small bite out of the pizza to see how hot it is." After seeing her nod her head yes, I took a slice and I took a small bite out of it. To my relief, it wasn't as hot as I thought it was, though it was a bit hotter than what I liked. "You're right, Wilma. It isn't that bad." I said. "However, I prefer my pizza to be slightly cooler than this. You can dig in if you like to; just be sure to leave one slice left for me."

With that, Wilma really began to chow down. About 2-3 minutes after she got going with the pizza, I went to work on it as well. We didn't speak much while we ate, except for after Wilma finished her first slice. Once again cracking a half-smile, she said, "Mmm. This has to be the best pizza I ever had."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that from you." I replied. "Of course, I guess that's what is to be expected when someone has organic pizza for the first time."

"Really? This is organic?"

"Yes. In fact, much of the food eaten here is organic."

"But isn't organic food rather pricey?"

"Yes. However, the people here are more dedicated to eating organic food than other people are. And, just to be honest, there are a lot of people here in Whitesage that goes out to Codton and Gunnersville to get certain food items, despite the effort of the Whitesage government to curb such activity."

"Do you go out of town to get your food?"

"Not often. I try to get as much food from the Co-op as I can."

"I see."

With that, we went back to eating our pizza.

After about another seven minutes or so, we both decided that we had eaten enough. I had eaten three slices, as did Wilma, which kind of surprised me. We asked to have the final two slices bagged up so that Wilma could have something for lunch tomorrow. After that, I paid the money for our meal and we left. The walk home wasn't that much different than it was going to Ralph's, though we didn't talk much, if at all. I think we were both concentrating on keeping our feet moving so we could possibly use the bathroom when we got back to my place.

As I kind of expected, Sven was very happy to see the both of us return, but he seemed more interested in Wilma returning than with me, even though I was the one carrying the leftover pizza. As I went to the fridge to put the pizza away, Wilma said, "I'm going to use the bathroom for a minute, so if you're looking for me, that's where I'll be."

"I understand." I replied. After I put away the pizza and closed the door, I made my way downstairs and from there, to my office. _OK, Wilma. Now that I know who you are and what might have set you off from your mother, now it's time for you to tell your part of the story_. I thought as I began to collect paper and pencils. _I can't help you unless you can tell me what you're problems are, and the sooner I know about what made you blow a fuse, the better off everyone is going to be_. After gathering up the writing materials, I tore off two pieces of paper from the notepad and I wrote on the top of them a question: on one of them was the question 'How did you get here?'; on the other was the question 'What is the reason for you running off'. As I was doing so, another thought came to my mind: _Maybe I overreacted back in Heatherfield. Maybe it was just my imagination. I mean, there shouldn't be any real connection between Susan that I saw this afternoon and the same woman who idiotically decided to marry Tony_. Just to be sure, I began to look around for the marriage photo that my mother had provided me. As one might expect, it took me some time for me to find the object because I did not want to be reminded of the event. But I was able to find it, and to my disappointment, the woman on the front looked almost identical to Susan (the differences were age-related). Any doubts on who was in the photo were erased when it said on the back of the photo _Tony Cannings and Susan Vandom – 8/8/1986_. I knew now for certain that the Susan I saw earlier in the day was the same that married my half-brother.

After putting the photo away, I grabbed the paper and pencils lying on my desk, and with them in hand, I walked back upstairs. Wilma was sitting on the couch, scratching Sven behind the ears. "OK Wilma." I said to her. "I know that you're not going to like this, but I want you to answer some questions for me."

"What kind of questions?" she asked, looking rather puzzled.

"Questions about how and why you got here." I replied. As I said this, I noticed Wilma seem to melt before me, as if all of the joy had been slowly sucked out of her body. The expression on her face was also noticeable: where it was fairly neutral before I answered her question, it quickly looked as if she was seriously distressed and gloomy. Knowing the info I had received from her mother, her headmaster, her swim coach, and Officer Lair, I wasn't shocked to see her like this. After a bit, I then said, "I would like you to write down the answers to the questions provided at the top of each paper. There are spare pieces of paper available if you need more space to write the answers. When you're done, let me know. I'll be in the basement if you're looking for me."

With that done, I headed back down into the basement where I began to lift weights and stuff. In a way, it felt therapeutic to go through moving big piles of metal, which was strange because it always felt more empowering than therapeutic. Perhaps it was because of all of the stress I had to endure from the day, and I needed to get that stress out of my system. But in any case I was happy to get it done.

It was maybe 8:15 PM when I was finally done, and I was about to go upstairs when I ran into Wilma, who was standing in the doorway. She looked very much the same way as she did the night before, which meant she had been emotionally distraught during this entire process, and she had probably started crying again. In her left hand was a wad of papers. As I saw the papers, I said, "Are you done answering my questions?" All she did was nod her head yes. I then said, "Is it OK if I could see those papers in your hand?" Without saying anything, Wilma extended her arm with the papers in tow, as if she wanted me to take them. After I took them, I finally said, "You can go upstairs now. I won't ask of you to explain your answers, at least not tonight." With that, she turned around and began to walk up the ramp.

From there, I walked into my office and began to examine the papers. For the first question, she had apparently began so miserable from what had happened yesterday that she decided that she wanted to get as far away from home as possible. So she went to the provincial bus station and got herself a ticket to Fredericton; she thought that was far enough away that she would be free from the constraints of her old life. However, when she got to the Gunnersville bus depot (which was on route to Fredericton), she said that she 'most likely' got onto the wrong bus and ended up here instead. Not knowing what to do, she decided to take a walk in the nearby ravine so that she could determine her next move. But as she went walking in the ravine, she apparently slipped on some loose dirt and got caught under some rocks. She had then spent what she thought was the next hour trying to extract herself from the rocks until Sven found her.

As for my second question, the reasons that she left were numerous, though I knew of most of them: first, she had learned that she had done poorly on a biology test, which she said was her best subject; she knew that she was not a great academic, and she feared that because of this recent setback, she could lose her spot on the swim team. Second, she had learned that she had been demoted on the depth charts for all of the freestyle swim races she normally started except for the relay races, which she saw as a humiliation. Third, she had recently gotten into an argument with her boyfriend, one Matt Olson, and that she suspected that some of her friends were trying to market themselves to him. Fourth, she had been accused by another friend about ruining a sweater that she had borrowed, saying that she had come across a stain on the inside of the garment, and that it was something that needed to be dry-cleaned. Finally, she said that she had gotten into an argument with her mother about something she couldn't remember, and that convinced her that she was all alone in the world and thus gave her the reason to run away and start from scratch. At last, I knew what had happened the day before.

I put the papers away in my office and I walked back upstairs to see Wilma sitting on the couch again, with Sven sprawled out on her lap. She looked every bit as despondent as she did at the bottom of the ramp. I then sat down next to her and said, "Well, if there's anything else I can do for you, please let me know."

Wilma didn't respond. After a short time, I then said, "Eh, Wilma, I remembered that I have a business call to make. I hate to be a jerk, but would it be OK if you could go back to where you slept last night? At least for a few minutes."

Without saying anything, she began to stand up, and with that, Sven jumped down from her lap. She then slinked into the guest room with Sven following her. Once the both of them were inside, Wilma closed the door. The moment the door closed shut, I immediately but quietly went downstairs and back to my office, where my secondary phone was located. I quickly rummaged through the papers in my briefcase until I found the phone number to Susan's place, and I then dialed it up. After what seemed to be a long time, I finally heard Susan's voice say, "Hello?"

"Hi, this is Arthur from earlier today."

"Oh hi Arthur. Did you make it back to Whitesage OK?"

"Yes I did."

"How's Wilma?"

"Eh, she doing reasonably well, though she seems to be rather bored and still somewhat upset from what happened yesterday."

"I guess I should've expected that. Did you find out how she got out there, and why she did it?"

"Yeah. I asked her those questions not long ago, and she got here via the provincial bus line; she was apparently trying to get to Fredericton."

"Fredericton?"

"Yeah, I was that surprised myself."

"But why would she go there?"

"I don't know. I didn't get any info on that sub-topic, though she must have misread the bus numbers because she got onto the bus route that leads out to the West, not the North. Not knowing what to do, she decided to wander away from the depot. Why she would still baffles me, since I don't think she has enough money to lodge here."

"What about the why?"

"Well, she gave a few reasons on why she ran off. Some of them we talked about earlier, but she also said that she had gotten into an argument with Matt Olson… eh… tell me, have you met him before?"

"A few times. He's pretty nice, although he looks a bit ratty. Wilma seems to talk about him a lot, though she doesn't like talking about him in front of me."

"Interesting. But getting back to what I was saying before, she had recently gotten into an argument with him, though she didn't say about what. She then said that recently some of her friends were spending an unusual amount of time with him, and she thought that maybe Matt was getting ready to dump her in favor of one of them."

After saying that, I kind of heard Susan groan and then murmur something along the lines of 'Why don't you tell me anything of this sort, Wilma?'. After a bit of silence, I said, "Are you still there?"

"Yes. I'm just bewildered on why she doesn't talk about stuff like this more often. I mean, I am here to actually TALK about these problems, instead of stewing over them."

"I understand. Another thing I came learned was that she had gotten into a spat with another friend over some clothing she had borrowed. Apparently there was a stain on the garment in question, and her friend blamed her for it."

"Hmm. That's odd; whenever she does borrow clothes, she always returns it in good shape."

"I see. Eh, who do you think might have owned the clothes?"

"That's hard for me to know. I would normally say Hay Lin, who wants to get into the fashion business, but she's never borrowed any clothes form her. So I really don't know."

"I understand what you're talking about."

"Well, is there anything else that you wish to tell me?"

That's when my heart sort of sank. I realized that this was the best chance for me to tell her the awful truth about who I was, though I knew that I wasn't going to enjoy it. After what must have felt to be ten minutes of waiting, I finally said, "Susan, there's… there's something that I wish to tell you that I couldn't tell you back at the police station."

"What do you mean?" Susan asked.

"Well, remember when we were talking about Tony, and how I had the same first name as Tony's relative, and how he was flaky and contradictory?"

"Yes…"

"Well, I am… that guy. I am technically Tony's half-brother."

There was a long pause after I said that. I certainly felt very odd after saying that over the phone; on one way, I felt as if a ton of weight had been lifted off of my shoulders, and in another way, I still felt very sick to my stomach after saying it. I certainly didn't hear much coming from the phone after I brought it back to my ear; I figured that she was just as shocked as I was when I first found out the truth. I then said rather hesitantly, "Hello? Are you still there?" All I got was a very weak and shaky "Yes. I'm still here."

"Well, I think that you want to sleep on this, so if you don't mind, I'll just hang up, OK?"

"OK. I'll talk to you tomorrow, then."

"Very well, then. Goodbye Susan."

"Bye." With that, I hung up. I found it surprisingly hard to get out of my chair and walk around, as I felt that I had jelly for legs. But I knew that I had to, especially if I was going to sleep in my own bed that night. Eventually, I made my way up the ramp and into the dining/kitchen area, and from there the main room. Wilma and Sven had not moved much, if at all, since I saw them last. I then said, "Well, you can do whatever you want, but I'm going to start getting ready to hit the sack. It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

"How so?" Wilma asked.

"I'll probably need to go into work tomorrow, and besides that there are a few other things I need to take care of." I answered. "Thankfully those few other things are all in town."

"That's good to hear."

"Yeah. Well, I better start cleaning my teeth." And with that, I headed into the bathroom. Once everything was taken care of, I walked off to lock up the house. After that, I told Wilma that was going to bed. I must have been really tired from that day, because I completely turned off after only five minutes or so.


	3. Chapter 3

Page

_Day 3_

The next morning started much the same way as it did the last morning: with Sven wanting to be fed by Wilma instead of me. This time, though, Wilma just asked how many scoops of food I needed to give Sven. After telling her again that Sven was only to get one scoop of food, I began to force myself out of bed and into my bathrobe and moccasins. Like before, I asked her what she wanted for breakfast, but this time she didn't know what she wanted. Responded to this, I simply pulled down a box of corn flakes and grabbed some milk and orange juice. After they were on the table, I got some bowls and spoons. "If you want cereal, there it is." I told Wilma as I began to put the corn flakes into my bowl. After staring at the empty bowl, Wilma then did the same.

Beyond that, breakfast was a rather quiet affair. Neither of us really spoke much if at all; we were both more concentrated on our cereal than on anything else. After both of us were finished and everything was cleaned up and put away, I then walked back to my bedroom to get dressed. I came out to see Wilma once again sitting on the couch with Sven on her lap. "Is it just me, or this going to be the way things are while you're here?" I said.

"What do you mean?" Wilma asked, looking rather puzzled.

"Well, several times now I've seen you sitting on this couch here with Sven on your lap. If it continues like this, I might just think of you as a fixture in my main room!" I responded.

Wilma didn't say anything, and her face was difficult to read; I couldn't tell if she was confused or irritated, but I didn't really have the time to dwell on it. "Anyway, I'm going out to church. I'll be…"

"Church? I thought only pagans live here!" Wilma said, rather shocked.

"No, there are some Christians here, and I'm one of them." I said. "As I was saying, I'll be back in about two hours at most. And as with yesterday on my business trip, try not to destroy anything if you can help it."

"OK then. But… well, you know…"

"What does that mean?"

"Well, eh, it just feels kind of weird. I mean, it just feels awkward having to watch over house of a person I don't even know, especially when I have to use that stupid niece cover-up."

I kind of felt sick when I heard the word 'niece' pop up, and while it wasn't a cover-up, I didn't know how best to say it to her. The best I could say was, "I understand what you mean, Wilma. If you could come up with a better cover-up, go with it. Now, if you don't mind, I really need to get going." And with that, I headed out the door to go to church.

The church that I went to had no real name, though it was oftentimes called a Hidden House of Mindlessness by the locals, especially the old-timers. Being that it was in Whitesage, it was an overly liberal interpretation of Christianity, or in other words, its overall gospel was based on how to relate to Jesus' life and teachings in today's world, instead of trying to live in a way that was at best archaic and at worst regressive.

The church itself was located within my section of Whitesage, which made travel to it particularly convenient. But it was easy to miss, as it was quite small. The building was surrounded by all sides except the front with shrubs and trees, both to improve the general aesthetics of the grounds and to better please the religious majority of Whitesage in what I saw was a futile attempt to hide the building. The building itself was an insulated concrete form, and was lined with a façade of bricks. Perhaps the most striking part of the entire church was its glass roof, which provided plenty of natural light to come in when the conditions were right and helped to create a rich religious atmosphere during the sermons, especially at night. Otherwise, it was a very plain church, and to some Christians it felt a bit uninviting.

I had not missed a religious gathering at the church since I got here, and I certainly wasn't going to miss this one because I needed to talk about my situation with the pastor of the church, Father Samuel Mannahan.

The church service was like just about like other non-holiday services that I had known before. But unlike past times, where I listened intently to the sermon, I was preoccupied with what I needed to tell Father Mannahan and how to best say it. After all, letting a girl into your house who happens to be your niece that you've never known in the past is not exactly a topic one hears on an average basis, and especially in a religious setting. Still, this was the best place to get guidance on how to deal with problems such as this within the religion I had chosen.

After the sermon, I was in the foyer area; it was where Father Mannahan talked with some of the parishioners about their issues in their lives after the official stuff was taken care of. It took me a little while before I got my chance to speak with him, which was expected since I always sat up close to the front of the congregation, and those that spoke to him first were always in or near the back. Thankfully, Father Mannahan knew me very well, and was quick to spot me. After pulling himself through the small crowd, he said, "Hi Arthur. Is there something you need to speak of?"

"Yes, but I can't talk about it here." I responded. "I'll wait in my usual pew to talk about it when you're done with everyone else."

"I understand." With that, I headed back to my pew and sat down, all the while thinking about what to say to him. All of the thoughts regarding this were trying to create coherent responses to the things I would be asking him. I knew for a fact though that it would be perhaps harder to talk with him than I did anyone else up to this point because of his profession and the weirdness of the whole story.

It was about ten minutes before Father Mannahan got back to me. As he walked towards me, I noticed that he seems a little tired, which I couldn't blame him because of the number of problems he needed to address; I guess I never really noticed. He sat down next to me and said, "OK Arthur, what seems to be bothering you?"

I took a big swallow and said, "Sam, I have a significant family issue that I would like some ethical clarity on, if you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind, but that sounds rather odd coming from you." Father Mannahan said. "After all, the last time you had any family issues was when we first met, and it was about your half-brother."

"Thankfully, it does not revolve around my half-brother, at least not directly. It instead revolves around his daughter, or technically speaking, my niece."

"His daughter? I thought that Tony didn't have any offspring during his short marriage."

"That's what I thought too, until last Friday night. That's when the house of cards caved in."

"How so?"

I then began to explain everything up to this current point, being sure to leave out the noose bit and anything else that would upset Father Mannahan. I noticed that his facial expressions seemed to be a mixture of shock and bewilderment as I talked, which I expected from him. When I was done explaining to him all that had happened, all he could say was, "Wow. That is a VERY odd story. Are you sure you're not making it up?"

"I swear on the divine's honor that what I have told you is the truth. I would not lie to it, and so therefore I would not lie to you."

"I see. Now, eh, what exactly do you want me to help with? I mean, I've never dealt with something quite of this magnitude."

"Well, I think the things she might need the most is some sort of guidance. Perhaps what she needs the most is a father figure in her life, as she does not have one. I hope that, for the time being, I can fill that role."

"Yes, that would make some sense in trying to help her. Granted, it won't work nearly as well as actually having a father in her life on a daily basis, but it should do an adequate job. Certainly long enough to get her back on her feet as well as her senses." After a short pause, Father Mannahan said, "Eh, I know that this sounds rather rude, but does she seem like a religious person?"

"I highly doubt it." I answered. "I mean, this is Canada, not some semi-developed or undeveloped country. Or the southern portions of Stupidia. That been said, she did seem interested when I told her about the general history of Whitesage and its religious origins."

"Ah. That might be a good jumping off point. Maybe you should take her around to some religious groups here and see if she begins to develop a bond with one of them."

"Yeah. I was also thinking that, knowing that she was seriously bored being stuck at my house all of yesterday, that it would be a good idea to send her out for some job shadows, just so that she can better plan her life from this point onwards."

"That's also a good idea, Arthur. I also think that, if necessary, it would be a good idea to send her off on some of our unique therapies to get her back to a sane plane. After all, if we don't uncork the negative feelings inside of her, it won't make much of a difference on what else is done to help her."

"I'll see about that, but I wouldn't be surprised if I go through with it, knowing what she did." After a short pause, I then said, "Well, I better get back home. I think that I'll take her off to The Mystic's Emporium for a job shadow and see where that goes; I would like to keep a close eye on her anyway."

"I understand, Arthur." Father Mannahan said. "If you need anything, you know where to find me."

"OK, then. I'll see you around whenever." And with that, I stood up from the pew and walked out of the church.

I walked back home, all the while thinking about the discussions I had with Father Mannahan regarding Wilma and what to do with her for the week. I was happy that things turned out as well as they did, but at the same time I felt a little uneasy about whether or not I could pull it off; after all, I had no real experience being a parent for any age group, so I was really walking blind in how to best do things. _Boy am I in for it this week_, I thought to myself. _How in the right mind am I supposed to guide this girl without either of us blowing a fuse? I mean, it is one thing to settle a disgruntled shopper, since one only gets to deal with them for a short period of time. But I have to take care of someone like this for a whole week! And I still barely know this girl!_ Those thoughts dissipated the moment I reached home. Inside I saw Sven sleeping on his doggy bed, but Wilma was nowhere to be seen.

"Wilma!" I called out, hoping that she hadn't done anything stupid while I was gone. Thankfully, I then heard her say, "I'm in the guest room!"

Relieved, I went over to the guest room door and knocked on it. I then said, "Is it OK if I could come in?"

After a brief pause, Wilma said, "I suppose."

I walked in to see Wilma sprawled out on the folding mat; she must have fallen asleep while I was gone. Despite her position, she didn't look the least bit tired. "Are you OK?" I asked.

"Eh, I don't know." She responded.

"What you mean, 'I don't know?' You are either OK or you're not. That answer doesn't make any sense."

"Well, neither was that point of you saying you were going to church; you said that this place was a pagan community! What would Kyle think of this?"

"I doubt that he would like it. Of course, it's kind of hard to tell, since no one has seen him since 1980."

"What happened to him?"

"Well, Robert Red Sage died in that year, and his last request was that he be buried on his tribal reservation grounds. Kyle personally took on the responsibility of burying his longtime friend, and it was done since we received word from him from Robert's tribal area, but he disappeared on the way back. No one has seen or heard of him since, and officially speaking, the Whitesage government says he's missing and presumed dead."

"Well, that aside, why is there Christians in a pagan community? And for that matter, what are pagans anyway?"

"Hm. Those are two very good questions to ask regarding Whitesage and its religious makeup, but the first question is rather difficult to answer. The other question asked is somewhat more straightforward to answer. And since I promised to tell you what the pagan religions are about, it would be in our best interests to get it out of the way."

"Yeah, it has been on my mind ever since you told me about them."

"OK. But if you could excuse me for a second, I'd like to call Bryan."

"Who's Bryan?"

"He's technically my boss."

"Where do you work?"

"I work at a place called The Mystic's Emporium."

"And that is..?"

"It's kind of like a store that sells all sorts of new age and alternative goods, most of it geared towards the pagan community. But I need to talk to Bryan to see if it's OK for you to do a job shadow over there, provided that you want to do it."

"Well, it certainly beats just sitting around here; OK, I'll do it."

"I was hoping to hear that, Wilma. Now, if you could excuse me for a minute, I'll make the call." And with that, I picked up the phone and dialed in the number. After the second tone, I heard Bryan's familiar voice over the phone: "This is The Mystic's Emporium of Whitesage; Bryan speaking."

"Hi Bryan. It's me, Arthur." I said.

"Oh hi Arthur. Eh, how has your weekend gone so far?"

"It's been hectic. Eh, listen Bryan, I would like to ask you for permission for something."

"And that would be…"

"Well, I just got a visit from a student outside of Whitesage who is planning on doing some job shadows in the area, and one of her locations she singled out was our place. So, technically speaking, would it be OK for her to conduct a job shadow for our place?"

"I suppose so, in as long as she got permission from her headmaster."

"Yes I did; I talked to her yesterday after getting my business cleared up."

"Oh yeah, the business from yesterday; everyone had been talking about it back here at work. So, what was that all about?"

"I'd rather not talk about it right now; maybe later."

"I see. Well, I'll see the both of you soon."

"Thanks Bryan. Bye." I hung up the phone, turned over to Wilma, and said, "You got approved. You can come with me to work today."

For the first time since she had been here, I saw her smile, though it was so subtle that many wouldn't have even noticed. I myself wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't been looking directly at her face. After getting over the look on Wilma's face, I then said, "OK, Wilma. Let's get going."

"All right, Arthur." She replied, her smile fading. "But you still have to tell me about what these 'pagans' are."

"I know. Just one thing though: you might want to get a jacket on. It is October after all."

With that, Wilma went back into the guest room to grab her jacket; as she did so, I did the same with my jacket from the closet. I then got Sven hooked up to his leash, and waited for Wilma to show up. It wasn't a long wait for Wilma, and with that, we all left the house, being sure to have things locked before we left.

"OK, now that we've left the house, can you PLEASE tell me what paganism is?" Wilma said after I got the house locked up.

"Yeah, I know I promised you that, though the first thing about paganism is that we should, from this point forward, call it Neo-Paganism." I replied.

"Neo-Paganism? Why call it that?"

"Well, there are a few reasons. First, we need to consider the age in which these faiths were formed. Since nearly all of these faiths came into existence in the last 50 years or so, they are considered new. Neo technically means new or modern. Hence, we are talking about modern pagans."

"OK, that makes some sense. What are the other two reasons for its name?"

"The second reason is to make the religious movement less threatening to those who aren't Neo-Pagans, those it hasn't worked very well."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, outside of Whitesage, the ideas of Neo-Paganism as so radically different from most mainstream religions that whenever someone publically identifies with it, they end up suffering from discrimination. That's why it's so hard to know the actual number of Neo-Pagans in the world because nearly all of them keep their religious lives private."

"Hm. I didn't know that normal people had such a negative view of such ideas. But then again, I don't have a real interest in world religions outside of what you told me last evening." She then paused for a minute and said, "So what's the other reason?"

"Group ownership. It's a long story, and no one really wants to talk about it."

"Oh. OK, well that… Hey, wait a minute! That doesn't tell me anything about who these people are at all!"

"I was getting to that Wilma."

"Oh. Sorry. So what exactly is Neo-Paganism?"

"That has to be one of the hardest questions to answer in all of religious studies, Wilma. And the reason I say this is because Neo-Paganism is an overly broad group to cover, as there are so many groups in that can fit into it, and many of those groups have sub-groups. I think the best I can explain it is that Neo-Paganism faiths are those based on experience, rather than belief."

"So, in other words, Neo-Pagans don't believe in things that they have not experienced."

"That's correct, at least as far as I know. And though I'd hate to admit it, even though I've been calling this place home for quite some time now, I'm still learning stuff about Neo-Paganism."

"Wow. I didn't know it was like that." Once again there was a pause, and then Wilma said, "So, when Whitesage was first formed, how many of these Neo-Pagans were there?"

"They made up about 90% of the population, so over 250 using the official records as a guide. Today that ratio has shrunk dramatically, down to roughly 55%. Even so, that's a lot of Neo-Pagans living here when one considers the fact that there are about 17,700 people living here."

"That's… that's a lot of Neo-Pagans, Arthur."

"Yes it is… eh, are you all right Wilma?"

"Yes, I'm fine. It's just that I didn't know how many were here, and I didn't expect so hear such a high number."

"Yeah, I kind of get what you're coming at. Of course, as I said before, not all Neo-Pagans are the same. There are many groups of Neo-Paganism out there, and I myself have found it a little easier to break it down into its constituent parts."

"And these parts are…"

"Well, let me explain. If one uses a pie chart as a guide, one will see four separate pieces to it, each one a bit different from its cousins. The most significant piece belongs to Wicca; roughly half of the Neo-Pagan population is a part of it."

"Wicca… You know, I've heard of it before, but I just can't put my finger on its source."

"Wicca, at least in a popular sense, has connections to witchcraft."

"Oh, now I remember! I had heard about in a history class regarding Europe during the Middle Ages, and… and…" Wilma stopped. I noticed that something was troubling her, for she looked somewhat depressed. In response, I then said, "Is something wrong?"

"Well, maybe." Wilma said in a half-whisper. She then quickly said, "Eh, it was a bad memory. I don't want to talk about it." It was almost as if she knew what I would do next, and she didn't want the conversation to go off-course to something more personal.

"That's fine." I replied. "I understand how you feel being in a weird place after a series of traumatic events. You can tell me about it tonight if you feel like it."

"OK. So what is Wicca?"

"Well, that is like the 'what is Neo-Paganism' question all over again, though it's even harder to come up with an answer. Outside of the usual Neo-Pagan bondage, Wicca in a traditional sense worships both god and goddess figures, and that they can manifest themselves into a form within our realm. Wiccans of all stripes also follow a particular ethical code that basically says 'As long as it harms no one else, you can do what you please'."

"Wiccans? Traditional sense?"

"Wiccans are what followers of Wicca are called. As for that point of 'traditional sense', I know that sounds like a major oxymoron, but I do mean that: though all Wiccans accept the second point, that being the code of conduct, there are some Wiccans who only worship the goddess and not the god. Those that do so are known as Dianic Wiccans, or feminist Wiccans. As you might expect, only women are part of those groups."

"I see. And how many of these Dianic Wiccans live here?"

"About a fifth or so of the overall Wiccan population are Dianics. And another point should be made about their ethical code, better known as the Wiccan Rede."

"Is that the 'As long as it harms no one' bit?"

"Yes. It actually states that while one can exercise your freedom to do what you want, it cannot infringe on the rights of other people, or even one's best interests. This goes further than preventing physical and/or emotional pains on other people, as most religions stress."

"Interesting. But here's something I don't understand, Arthur. If Wicca has connections with… well, you know. If that's the case, then how did it survive?"

"I certainly don't know, and there's no definite answer to that question. You can get about as many different answers from as many people who know the subject competently."

"Then how did Wicca become like this?"

"In other words, it's history."

"I see. So who started the whole thing?"

"As far as I know, Wicca in its current form can trace its roots to one Gordon Gabbert."

"Who's he?"

"Gordon was an eccentric who was as a civil servant, anthropologist, archeologist, writer, and weaponry expert during his lifetime. According to legend, he first discovered Wicca in 1939 when he and his wife viewed a theatre production regarding the life and times of Pythagoras. The group that ran the theater happened to be a group of Wiccans."

"So, what you're implying was that Wicca was already in existence at the time."

"Yes it was, though it's hard to believe knowing the cultural mores of the day."

"Geez. I… I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to, Wilma. Now as I was saying…

I'm not overly sure about much of what happened after that, but he must have been initiated into a coven, or a small group of Wiccans who take part in religious ritual. It was from these experiences that in 1954, under a pen-name Gordon published an expose into the World of Wicca."

"He wrote a BOOK about this topic? In 1954?"

"Yes he did. And he wrote a follow-up book in 1959 which was mostly a rebuttal of misconceptions about Wicca."

"Well, how did everyone react?"

"As you might expect, it was not well received, both from the public and from within the religion itself."

"Well, I can understand the sentiments, on both sides."

"And just to let you know, the public reaction was not what you'd expect: though there were a few that saw it as a form of devil-worship, which Wicca is definitely not, most people thought Gordon had gone off the deep end, and therefore thought of his writings and ideas as idiotic gibberish. But those books sowed the seeds to the religious revolution I told you about last night."

"You mean the counterculture stuff of the second half of the 1960s."

"Precisely."

"So, half of all the Neo-Pagans here are Wiccans. But if that's the case, then what makes up the other half?"

"Well, there are a few groups. If you consider the whole of the Neo-Pagan pie, 30% of the neo-pagan population claims to be reconstructionists. Or, that's what I call them; they can also be called revivalists or pantheoners."

"OK, none of those names make any sense to me. I mean, pantheoners? I've never even heard the word, much less try to guess what it means."

"Well, pantheoners derive from the word pantheon, which in itself is a famous building in Rome. Built about 2,000 years ago, it was a temple dedicated to all of the Greco-Roman gods and goddesses."

"Oh I get it! Pantheoners are those who worship the Greco-Roman gods and goddesses."

"Well, that's partially true. In actually, it refers to the worship of a certain group of gods and goddesses from a geographic region of the world. But that's not quite accurate; if such was the case, Hindus would be called by that name as they would fit the bill, though it's kind of hard to put them in any category, knowing how diverse their beliefs can be. Rather, pantheoners worship a specific group of gods and goddesses whose system died out long ago. Because of that, pantheoners are often called revivalists because they 'revive' these long-dead faiths, but because they do so only in part due to various cultural mores, I prefer to call area of religion reconstructionism, and those who practice these faiths recontrustionists."

"Well, I was kind of right, wasn't I?"

"Yes you were. But the Neo-Greco-Roman worshippers, or NGRs as I like to call them, make up only a small percentage. Most reconstructionists prescribe to Neo-Celticism."

"Neo-Celticism? You mean like those in Ireland?"

"Yes, though the Celts not only existed there, but throughout Europe that was not part of the Greco-Roman world."

"You mean the Celts were THAT far spread out?"

"Yeah, I know. I was rather surprised to learn that fact myself. Even more surprising was the fact that most of the records regarding them come from outside sources, so we're not totally sure how accurate Neo-Celticism is compared to the original religion."

"But if that's the case, then how did it get started?"

"Oddly enough, it started as a joke."

"Really?"

"Yes. Well, at least the modern parts did. From what I've been told, there were some attempts at a Celtic revival during the 19th century in the British Isles, but they were rather flimsy in their approach. Neo-Celticism in its current and most accurate form didn't take place until 1963, at a college in Minnesota."

"I thought that the counterculture formed during the second half of the 1960s."

"And you're right, Wilma. This was just a low rumbling of the volcano."

"So what exactly happened? I mean, you said it was a joke, but from the sounds of it, I feel that it was something far more serious."

"In a way, you're right again. It was all about a certain rule that was in place in that college, and nearly every other college/university at the time, for that matter: one had to attend religious services at least once a week, or something along those lines. Although it was aimed primarily towards the Christians, it applied to everybody; one couldn't escape it.

Well, even back then there was significant discontent towards the cultural mores of the time, and armed with that discontent a group of students formed the Druid Reformation Assembly, or DRA. They figured that in as long as the rule was in place, they would bend the rule so they could attend religious services to something they could connect to."

"So how did the college respond?"

"They dropped the religious services requirement the next year. It was believed by many that the higher ups in the college thought that by dropping the religious requirements, they would disarm the DRA and therefore cause it to disband. But if that was the intention, it didn't work, because the DRA continued to gather for religious services on a regular basis. In a way, it was a watershed moment in terms of religion in North America because it opened up the doors of religious freedom."

"So, what happened after that?"

"I'm not overly sure, but in the mid 1980s one Ivan Bellkettle, who had connections to the DRA, formed the group called The Celtic Fellowship, though it's almost always spoken in Gaelic. And just for the record Wilma, I cannot pronounce it. In any case, nearly all of the Neo-Celtics here have connections to it. As for the DRA, it's still in existence, but it has become very diffuse over time."

"Eh, Arthur, I was wondering something. As you've been speaking, I noticed that the group's names often include the word druid. As a result, shouldn't this area of worship be called Neo-Druidism?"

"Well, to most people, that's actually what it's called. But I don't like this term because there were more to the Celts than just druids. There were also bards and seers as part of the higher-ups in Celtic society."

"Interesting. So, what did each of these groups play in Celtic society?"

"As far as I know, the druids were both the religious and academic masters of society, and that has largely been true for modern druids. Bards were the entertainers and messengers of society, much like James Stone of today. Seers were the prophets of society, and functioned much the way that modern prophets do. Because all druidic circles I have seen and heard in Whitesage include bards and seers, I have always called the religion Neo-Celticism since it's more accurate."

"I see. So, how many of these Neo-Celts… eh, is that what we should call them?"

"Yes, Wilma."

"OK. So as I was saying, how many of these Neo-Celts live here in Whitesage?"

"In terms of all of the recontructionist groups, Neo-Celticism makes up about 65% of the overall group, or in other words, roughly two-thirds."

"That many?"

"Yep, they grew very quickly once the movement got going."

"So, then who fills in the remaining third?"

"Well, after Neo-Celticism, the most prevalent reconstructionist group is Asatru?"

"Asatru?"

"Yeah, I know. It's kind of a weird name. It can also be called Heathenism, or in today's case, Neo-Heathenism."

"OK, that still doesn't tell me whose these people are."

"Oh, right. Heathenism is basically the worship of the Norse gods and goddesses, collectively known as the Aesir."

"So you mean the worship of individuals like Thor."

"Exactly, though as you might imagine, there are far more gods and goddesses than just Thor; he happens to be one of the most famous of the group."

"So, how did this group get started?"

"I'm not sure; I do know that they got started sometime in the 1960s or 1970s both in North America and in the lands that the Vikings lived in over a thousand years ago."

"So, how many Neo-Heathens live here in Whitesage?"

"Of the overall reconstructionist picture, Neo-Heathenism makes up about 15% of the overall group, or about one-sixth. To my mind, I find that stat rather surprising."

"Why is that?"

"The reason is because Neo-Heathenism is considered controversial among most of Neo-Pagan society."

"Really? How so?"

"For two reasons. First, both the original Heathenism and Neo-Heathenism are more militant than other forms of Neo-Paganism. Obviously, the concept of getting into paradise only by dying in combat certainly is not considered normal by the rest of Neo-Pagan community; such an idea has since been rejected or modified by Neo-Heathens. But even with that change, the overall feel of Neo-Heathenism is very different compared to Neo-Paganism as a whole. As you might expect with such a comment, most of the Neo-Heathen population are part of the police force and similar businesses. Of course, there are those like my boss, Bryan, who are not involved with that sort of thing. Second, thanks to the perversion of bigots, many people who have studied Heathenism believe that it is racist by nature."

"Racist?"

"Well, quite a bit of their symbolism and ideas were adopted by the Nazis during their control of Germany. Therefore, many believe incorrectly that heathens do not tolerate other ethnicities outside of their own. But in reality, Neo-Heathens have the same general attitudes towards ethnic/religious intolerance that most people have: if one has ethnic and/or religious biases, it is not prudent to reveal them to the public, and one should NEVER act upon them, lest one wishes to be torn to pieces, both literally and metaphorically. Even so, Bryan has told me that he had to defend his faith on a number of occasions from many in the Neo-Pagan community, though by now he says that he doesn't have to explain things as often as he did before."

"So, is Bryan…"

"No, he is not. He's a fairly easy person to get along with, and he has no issues with other people's ethnicity or religion. In fact, he says that almost all of Neo-Heathens here share his views."

"That's good to know. It would be very awkward for me to work with someone who faith might be judgmental about rather silly things like what you described." There was a slight pause, and then Wilma said, "So, combined between Neo-Celticism and Neo-Heathenism, they make up about five-sixths of the reconstructionist groups, right?"

"That's right, Wilma. I will say, however, that Bryan doesn't take sarcasm very well."

"I guess I should've expected that. So, what makes up what's left?"

"It's pretty evenly split between the NGRs, as we discussed earlier, and a group of what is known as Neo-Kemetism, or a belief in the Egyptian pantheon. In other words, both of these two groups control about 10% of the remaining pie of the reconstructionist sector of Neo-Paganism, if not a little less than that."

"I see. But here's something I've been wondering about for a bit now, having you talk about these reconstructionist groups. Do these groups accept members in based on their ancestry?"

"That's a good point, Wilma. To tell you the truth, though, it has not been the case. Bryan, for instance, has no known connections to any of Scandinavia, though he is a Neo-Heathen. The same is true for all of the reconstructionist groups that I have seen, though I know for a fact that the higher ups would prefer one's ancestry to match the groups involved."

"Well, I guess it makes sense. So after Wicca and Reconstructionism, what else is there in Whitesage in terms of Neo-Paganism?"

"I'll tell you once we get into the shop. And speaking of such, here it is." I said as I pointed to the sign now standing above us. Without saying much of anything, we entered. Bryan was standing by the cash register, looking over things to make sure that nothing was out of place, or at least he was until we entered the door into the shop, which rang the bell. "Oh hi, Arthur. I was wondering when you'd show up." He said as he moved in front of the counter.

"Yeah, I know. Hopefully I'm on time for today." I replied.

"A little bit early, which is perfectly fine with me. Oh, and who is this behind you?"

"Oh yeah, this is Wilma, the girl I talked about a bit earlier over the phone. She's out here doing research for her newspaper on the Whitesage community." I then turned to Wilma and said, "Wilma, this is my boss, Bryan." Wilma sort of shrunk down a bit after I introduced her, and after I had done so, all she could do was say a low-level "Hi." while she was twirling her hair around her finger.

"Nice to meet you Wilma. Now, I have some things in the back that need to be inventoried, so if you two could go back there and get that done for me, I'd greatly appreciate it."

"OK, Bryan. Wilma, if you could follow me…"

And with that, the two of us moved to the backroom, where there were a larger pile of boxes on the ground. Wilma said, "We have to sort ALL of them?"

"Yes. But it isn't as difficult as it sounds. I'll hand you a box, and you read the label. There's a list on the desk back there that has the entire listed inventory that we ordered. After reading the label, you check the list and if it matches an item on the inventory, you write a checkmark in the box next to the name of the item. I can then take the item off of the desk and get it opened up."

"I see. But as we were getting into, what makes up the rest of Neo-Paganism in Whitesage?"

"Yeah, we need to continue on with this discussion. Well, after Wicca and Reconstructionism, the most prominent group in Whitesage, making up roughly 10% of the Neo-Pagan population overall, is the Church of All Worlds."

"That doesn't sound like a Neo-Pagan group to me."

"True, it doesn't sound much like the rest of the groups that I discussed so far, but it is a Neo-Pagan faith."

"But why does it have such a goofy name?"

"Well, the major reason of the name, and for the general nature of the group, is its roots. While nearly Neo-Pagan faiths are based to various extents on past practices, the Church of All Worlds is based mostly on science fiction."

"Science fiction!"

"Yes. Science fiction."

"But what exactly was it based on?"

"The Church of All Worlds has its science fiction basis on the book 'Stranger in a Strange Land'."

"That's weird. I've never heard of that book before… Wait a second, let me guess. You own a copy of the book."

"Yes I do. It's also required reading in the Whitesage school system. In any case, the book revolves around an earthling raised by the inhabitants of Mars. I won't reveal the plot to you, but in the end, the main character forms a new religion based upon his knowledge and experiences. That religion, as you might expect, is called the Church of All Worlds."

"So then someone decided to create bring out a faith similar to what was in the book."

"Exactly. In the second half of the 1960s, a group of avid fans of the book in Missouri created their own version of the Church of All Worlds using a combination of the ideas in the book and more traditional Neo-Paganism tenants. It didn't take long before it became a very influential group in the Neo-Pagan community because it used to produce a magazine called the Crooked Dandelion."

"Crooked Dandelion? What was that all about?"

'It was just a periodical, much like Newsweek or Time, but with a concentration on the Neo-Pagan world and outlook. It ran from 1967 to 1976, and then again from 1988 to 2000. There have been some talks about restarting the Crooked Dandelion again, but no one in the Neo-Pagan community is overly sure that will happen. Nonetheless, the Church of All Worlds has played a significant role in the overall scheme of things, and it has been said that it's the fastest growing branch of Neo-Paganism today."

"Why would that be?"

"No one is really sure, but I theorize that the reason is due to the fact that most of your generation is more technology-savvy than the previous generations ever were. This is especially true in Whitesage, where much of the adult community still tries to live with pre-industrial revolution technology whenever possible, but their offspring are beginning to not only accept technology like computers and cell phones, but are actually embracing them. The Church of All Worlds, being based somewhat on science fiction, is more easily adapted to their lifestyle than its cousins."

"Well, when you put it that way, it sounds right. So, between Wicca, Reconstructionism, and the Church of All Worlds, what else is there to be offered in terms of Neo-Paganism?"

"Not much more than those three, Wilma. Of the remaining 10% of the Neo-Pagan picture, it's mostly scattered about various eclectic groups that are too small and/or disorganized to see a real increase in their numbers. The exception to that would be voodoo, as there are a few voodoo practitioners here, but not enough of them to be listed separately in the demographics table."

"Well, at least that answers my original question, but I still have little to go on to the other part of my question."

"About Christianity here in Whitesage and how it got established?"

"Well, eh, yes… but now I also want to know what other faiths reside here, outside of Neo-Paganism."

"I see. The original answer to this second question would be about that there are not that many Christians here to begin with, and that the church here had to make special concessions in order to establish itself, and even then some Neo-Pagans consider us as somewhat backward in the overall scheme of things. But as your question has morphed into something a bit more complex, the answer will have to be modified."

"Well, even then, I got quite a bit out of that response. But still, what is your new answer?"

"It depends on when in time your question is asked. When it was first in existence, the minorities of faith were of the Vedic variety, that being Hinduism, Buddhism, and Jainism. These days, the two biggest non Neo-Pagan religions are Sikhism and Baha'i, though at about 10% each of the populace, they can hardly be called mainstream."

I kind of saw Wilma make a bit of a face, as if she thought I was making stuff up. I then quickly said, "They're real religions, Wilma; trust me."

"Well, OK." Wilma responded, though a bit hesitantly. "It's just that I've never heard of these groups before. Or, if I had heard of them, I have forgotten about them."

"I understand what you're getting at. Most of us Westerners have little understanding of world religions outside of Christianity and Judaism. The reaction you provided me is perfectly understandable."

"So, what then are these religions?"

"Well, for Sikhism, I think you would be best off talking to a man named Jaspal."

"Who is Jaspal?"

"He's a friend of mine, and was one of the first people to show me around this place when I first came to Whitesage. He runs an Indian restaurant called Tejawswini Palace that's been one of the favorite eating places of not only Whitesage but also Codton and Gunnersville. Obviously, he's a Sikh, and no matter what you ask him in regards to his faith, he'll have an answer for you. I'll try to see if he can host you for a job shadow later in the week."

"OK. I bet he would be able to answer questions about Sikhism better than you can. Now, what was the other religion that you had mentioned?"

"That would be Baha'i."

"Right. Well, what about it?"

"It's a very recent religion; it came into existence in 19th-century Iran."

"THAT early?"

"Yes. It hasn't been in existence that long."

"So, what exactly is Baha'i?"

"Well, for lack of better description, Baha'i is like an offshoot of Islam, much like Islam was like an offshoot of Christianity and Christianity was like an offshoot of Judaism. Like many religions that are of this nature, it was relentlessly persecuted, and still is by much of the Islamic world. It probably would've have disappeared completely if it hadn't been for some of the later leaders of the faith, who were able to spread the faith to more tolerant parts of the planet. Even so, many of the Baha'i followers here come from the less flexible parts of the planet."

"I see. But what are some of Baha'i's key points?"

"From what I know Wilma, Baha'i stresses many of the usual things that other religions have stressed over the course of time, like the striving for peace in society and the balancing of wealth in society. But it also stresses things that were radical for its place and time, including gender equality and harmony between religion and science."

"Considering the place and time, I bet they were!"

"And they still are in many cases. That's all I know about Baha'i, so once again you'll have to ask around for more info."

"OK. And what about the rest of the faiths here?"

"Of the 25% that are not connected to Neo-Paganism, Sikhism, or Baha'i, it is a roughly equal mixture of every other religion you can name, though there are slightly more of the Vedic faiths living here, and in terms of the Abrahamic faiths – those being Judaism, Christianity, and Islam – only the mystical versions are allowed."

"Why is that?"

"Because the Neo-Pagans here in Whitesage, and nearly everyone else in Whitesage for that matter, believe that the more traditional forms of those religions are responsible for most of the evil in the world, and that they do not get people closer to the divine. In consequence, only Kabbalah Judaism, Gnostic Christianity, and Sufi Islam are allowed here."

"So I hear."

"Yes. However, this list, along with the previous groups, is rather misleading. I know of a number of Christians that attend Neo-Pagan rituals, mostly of the Wiccan variety. And I've also seen people enter the Buddhist temple, or stupa, on certain days and those exact same people entering the mosque on other days. Knowing this, the Whitesage government has decided to allow people to mark down multiple faiths for next year's census."

"You do the census on years that end in five?"

"Actually, we do so every year that ends in zero and five."

"Weird. OK, one last question. How and why did Christianity, regardless of form, set up here?"

"Well, in terms of the why, it was because the pastor, Samuel Mannahan, had a crisis of faith and wished to fix it here in Whitesage. As for the how, well… eh… it's best not to know, especially in public. If you talk to Father Mannahan, he'll tell you. If you want, I'll try seeing him tomorrow so he can explain things and perhaps give you a little work in the process."

"I'll consider it, Arthur. Well, I guess that takes care of the packages, except for this one; it says Balder's Books on the label."

"That's weird. Oh well, I'll get it dropped off later today."

"So now what should I do?"

"Go talk to Bryan. He'll find you something to do." With that, Wilma walked back to the main floor, whereas I got onto the paperwork.

After that long discussion, the day went well, though there were two events that captured my attention. The first occurred around 1:00 PM. As I was doing all of my usual business, I heard a high-pitched squeal that sounded like 'CUUUUUTE!' I immediately jerked my head toward the source of the squeal and saw Wilma in the jewelry section. When I walked over, Wilma's face was all aglow. "Eh, excuse me, Wilma." I said. "I don't think that many people would find it appropriate to screech about something that one considers cute."

Wilma immediately turned toward me and quickly began to blush out of embarrassment. Sensing how uncomfortable she was, I simply said, "Try not to sweat it so much; outside of the employees, there was no one else here. Just don't let it happen again, OK?"

"I'll try not to." Wilma replied rather softly. "It's just that I haven't seen any frog-shaped things in a while."

"What about that frog keychain on your duffel bag?" I asked.

"I meant _new_ frog-shaped things, like this necklace I spied." Wilma replied, pointing to a necklace. It consisted of green-colored beads attached to a similarly colored cord, and at the section opposite of the clasp was a pewter frog pendant. After taking a look back at this necklace, I turned back to Wilma and said, "You must really like frogs."

"How couldn't anyone?" Wilma responded. "They're perhaps the most adorable things nature created!"

"Well, that's up for debate, but I can see their appeal. I always thought they appealed to boys, though."

"Well, you're wrong. But back to the necklace; was this thing handmade?"

"It looks like it. Where it was made I'm not sure, but I reckon that it was made here. We have a sizable artisan community."

"I see. Where's the price tag… oh. This is way too expensive. Wait, this doesn't look like a normal price tag."

"It isn't. It's based off of our local currency. I can explain it in better detail later, but unless you have about $30 in normal currency, I'd recommend that you look elsewhere for frog-based goodies."

"OK." Wilma said, slightly depressed about the situation at hand. In a way, couldn't blame her for being a little down: it was a real nice necklace.

The other event, however, was not as welcome as the first one was. It occurred about an hour after the first event, and it began when Derek Alman showed up. The man, who was built like an ox and had an attitude to match at times, was in a reasonable mood as he walked into the place.

Since I was in the backroom doing all of the paperwork, I did not notice him coming through the door, but he made his presence very clear when he halfway mumbled, "Can I have a word with you?"

Not wanting to irritate him, as he was a man who expected business-based stuff to get over with as quickly as possible, I simply said, "The box is next to the cabinets." I then heard him trot over to the cabinets and picked up the box. "Yeah, it feels like it's the right size." He flatly stated. "But I don't get why they'd send this to this place instead of my own."

"It's probably just a simple goof-up, Derek."

"I doubt it. I think it's some sort of Stupidian plan to make our lives miserable, but I know for a fact that it won't work."

Not wanting to respond to one of his rather ridiculous theories on how the world works, I quickly changed the subject to something a bit more casual: "So, are you ready for Samhain?"

"That holiday is still a fair distance away, Arthur. But if you have to know, yes. Of course, I'd be looking forward to it more if it wasn't for the Stupidian election going on. I mean, why is it so close? Khoker should be solidly ahead of Emperor Nut-Job right now."

"I wish I had a theory, Derek, but it's none of our business."

"Well, I wish it was. If Emperor Nut-Job somehow wins this thing, there will be more suicides in this area for the next four years than a dozen Rodell administrations put together. It might be necessary anyway, since our population will likely double in that time span."

I turned around to see him sitting on a folding chair in the back with the package sitting in his lap. He looked as serious and as gloomy as he always did. I then said, "Derek, that's ludicrous. Even if the election doesn't end in our favor, the chance of such a scenario occurring is minimal.

"It's possible, but unlikely. But I'm certain that, if things do go the way I fear they will, there will be a lot of extremely miserable people here in Whitesage. And like any miserable person, they are better off dead." After a short pause, Derek then said "Well, I guess I better get going." With that, he got up off the chair and proceeded out to the sales area. I was expecting that he would be on his way and that would be the end of it, but about two seconds later I heard Wilma blurt out, "What is wrong with you!"

I immediately jumped out of my chair and dashed over to the door entrance. There I saw Wilma, glaring at Derek. She must have heard the discussion I was having with him, and knowing how she reacted Friday night to what I was beginning to realize was a dumb thing to say and do, the results were guaranteed to be bad.

"Wrong with me?" Derek said, not acting the least bit surprised.

"YES YOU! WHERE DO YOU GET OFF ON TELLING OTHER PEOPLE TO KILLING THEMSELVES!"

"I don't go out of my way to tell people to kill themselves. I only say that to miserable people."

"WHY?"

"Because misery disrupts society. And by any measure, if you're going to be miserable, you may as well be dead."

"THAT"S THE MOST IDIOTIC THING I'VE EVER HEARD! I… I… I CAN'T EVEN COME UP WITH SOMETHING COMPARABLE TO MATCH IT!"

"It's not idiotic, woman. It makes perfect sense in this world. Anyone with half a brain would get this point; when you grow up, you'll understand what I'm trying to get at."

"RRRRR! ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME!"

"Yes, I am. But you just don't get the truth staring you in the face. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some important business to tend to." And with that, Derek walked out the door.

"DANG IT! COME BACK HERE!" Wilma kept shouting, halfway stomping towards the door. "THIS… I… UUMMRRRR!"

I obviously didn't want her in this bad mood for the rest of the day, so I approached her and said, "Wilma…"

She spun around and shouted, "WHAT!" Her face was as red as her hair, and she eyes were so big that if they had gotten any bigger, they would've popped out of the sockets. I didn't take kindly to being shouted at, but at the same time I knew that this sort of interaction with Derek was all too common, so I simply just stared at her. Wilma instantly got the message and her rage quickly began to melt into embarrassment and shame. "Sorry." She said to me.

Without saying anything, I headed back to the storage area to continue my paperwork. A few minutes later, Wilma apprehensively walked into the back area. As I expected, she said, "I didn't mean to anger you, Arthur. I really, didn't…"

"You didn't anger me, Wilma." I replied. After a short pause and a chance to understand what had happened, I then said, "OK, I'll admit that I'm a little miffed about how you handled Derek. I just don't want to have business run off elsewhere over such outbursts, and Bryan believes the same thing. Just be thankful that there was no one else besides the three of us." I then heard a slight groan come out. I immediately turned over to the doorway to see Wilma looking upset; in a way, I couldn't blame her. I got up out of my chair and walked over to her. After gently putting my hand on her right shoulder, I then said, "Try not to worry about it, OK? You haven't been the first one to act like that around Derek, and I doubt you will be the last."

When I said that, Wilma mood instantly changed; her sadness changed to something much harder to read, though the best I could call it was an equal mixture of bewilderment and bitterness. "So his name is Derek." She said. "He's the one who told that stupid suicide theory."

"Yes." I said, feeling a little ashamed to acknowledge the fact.

"But why would you listen to such a jerk like that?"

"It's virtually impossible to do so, Wilma. Being that he's a business associate to us, I can't simply shun him every time I see him. And when one actually digs beneath the obvious message, one kind of gets what's he's really trying to say."

"That's utterly moronic, Arthur. No one should kill themselves because they're feeling down in the dumps, no matter how far down they are. If that was really such the case, I would've been dead over a hundred times by now, and we as a species would go extinct during the Stone Age."

"Yeah, that is a good way of putting it, though it's extremely hard to have Derek see it that way."

"But why does Derek say such stuff?" Wilma asked.

I immediately remembered a vow I had made to Derek last year, one that made me promise not to reveal the story of his life to the outside world. In my panic, all I could do was stutter stuff like "Well… eh… I…"

"Arthur, why does Derek say all of this garbage to people?" Wilma asked again.

Gathering up my nerves at last, I answered "Wilma, I can't tell you the whole story. I made a promise to Derek last year around this time not to divulge his life story to anyone around here. However, I can tell you general snippets of why he acts the way he does."

"And that is…"

"It's a mix of political things. There were some policies that he wanted to put into place and actions that he wanted to prevent, but he lacked the clout to do so. He also felt betrayed by some of his prior associates about certain promises that were made in conjunction with his past failures. Both of those events turned him into a manic and misunderstood individual who wants to start with a clean slate."

"He seems like more of a cold, indifferent crank to me."

"You're not the only one to thank that." A voice in the back area spoke. We both turned around to see Bryan, standing in the doorway, leaning against the door jam.

"Oh, I didn't see you back there, Bryan. We'll be back at work…" I began to say, but then Bryan interrupted, stating, "I'm not worried about the work status as of now, Arthur. I wanted to comment about Wilma's comments regarding Derek." He then turned to Wilma and said, "As I stated before, you're not the only one to think of Derek as a jerk with a number of his screws loose. Ever since he arrived in Whitesage in the summer of 2003, he's been rubbing just about everyone he comes across the wrong way, me included."

"Well, if that's the case, why doesn't the Whitesage government do something about it?" Wilma asked.

"That's a good point, Wilma." Bryan said. "And over time there have been numerous attempts to give him the boot or otherwise arrest him. I myself have filed a handful of such requests, but in either case, both have proven unsuccessful."

"But how?" Wilma exclaimed, utterly shocked as what has been said. "How could they ignore such horrible behavior?"

"Well, part of it is Derek has political connection to the Whitesage government." I stated. "Besides being one of the main managers of Balder's Books, he is also the speechwriter for the Head Chief of the Whitesage government. Apparently this isolates him from any sort of public criticism, and therefore the calls for his expulsion are ignored."

"Yeah, and part of it comes from the fact that, though he is extremely irritating, he has not committed any crimes while he's been there." Bryan said. "And I doubt that will change anytime soon. Thankfully, once he sees certain individuals as unfriendly, which mean nearly everyone, he does his best to avoid running into them, much less talking to him. So he'll probably leave you alone for the time that you're here."

"I hope so." Wilma said.

"Oh he will." I replied. "Trust me. Now, if you don't mind, I need to get back to the paperwork."

"That sounds good, Arthur." Bryan said. "Here Wilma, you were commenting on the currency a while back; let me give you a primer." And with that, he directed Wilma to the cash register. Satisfied that the incident had been resolved, I went back into the storage area.

The rest of the work period went by without incident. Once done, Wilma and I headed out to pick up Sven and then for us to get back to my place. Along the way, we walked across a place called Connections, which is Whitesage's only cyber café. Immediately, I remembered what I had said about homework stuff to Mrs. Rickenbacker, and I knew that it was in my best intention to get any homework so she didn't fall that far behind in her studies. So I quickly grabbed Wilma by the arm and said, "Excuse me, but I need to go check something in this place, and I can't check it at home."

She looked at me funny and said, "In there?"

"Yes. In there."

"But this is a cyber café. I thought people in Whitesage were all against technology."

"Only the older people see it that way. In your generation, having access to a computer means the world, if not more. So it was decided, amongst tons of protest and other threats, to construct a cyber café to give people who are used to E-Mail a chance to use it, as most people in Whitesage do not own computers. If you want, you can check your E-Mail to see what's…"

But then I stopped. I saw Wilma once again melt into depression and sadness, and I knew what she was upset about: reading any messages from her friends, perhaps former friends, and having to suffer from their judgment. In response, I then said, "Sorry. I didn't mean to drag up the pain from your past. If you want me to, I can get you something to drink; they won't allow drinks in the computer area."

"Eh…OK." Wilma said hesitantly. It seemed as much that she wanted to simply sit out on the bench just outside the doorway. But I knew that I couldn't leave her alone, even in a place like this, and even she kind of knew it. So with that, we strolled into Connections.

Once inside, Wilma was a bit overwhelmed by the mix of sci-fi and post-modern influences that made up the interior design. "The design of this place is based off of the owner's son's drawings. It appeals very much to his generation, which explains why nearly all patrons here are teenagers and young adults." I told her.

"I probably would've guessed that much." Wilma responded. "Where's are the drinks?"

"Over to your right. And I'll pick up the tab once you're done."

With that, Wilma walked over to the drink court and I walked over to the computer area. Being that it was a Sunday, it was hard to find an open computer, but I eventually found one. And as discretely as possible, I logged onto the web to check my E-Mail. To my surprise, there was an E-Mail for me, and it was from Mrs. Rickenbacker. The message said this:

Well, it took me quite a while to get everything squared away with the teachers, but I have gotten together some papers regarding the class-work for this week. All I have scanned so far is Monday's work, but I have stuff for Tuesday and Wednesday in my possession; I should have those scanned tomorrow. Thursday and Friday papers I should have scanned the day after that.

Seeing and hearing of your intellectual abilities yesterday, I'm pretty sure that you'd be familiar with the topics on these papers. If not, each of these papers on file has their source listed in the properties section of the document (they are not on the documents themselves, so Wilma shouldn't figure out where they come from); all you then need to do is to either find the book in the Whitesage school system archives or otherwise look online. A link to the website where the books are contained electronically are listed below.

Good luck trying to get Wilma to learn this material; Susan told me once that Wilma has a tendency to be a bit difficult to work with when she's in a bad mood. I hope that she feels better by now.

In any case, do not hesitate to send a message if you have any questions/concerns regarding Wilma's class-work.

Sincerely, Headmaster Henrietta Rickenbacker.

From there, I looked at the attachments that had been provided for me. There were six in total, all of them topics that any normal student had to learn. After taking a look at the link Mrs. Rickenbacker provided me, I then began to go over the papers and check their sources. Once that was done, I began to print out the documents, one by one. I made a quick trip over to the print machine and tried my best to hide from Wilma that I was printing out class-work for her. But I shouldn't have worried: when I took a quick glance over to the café part, I saw Wilma sitting in one of the chairs up by the bar, her back to the computer section. Even so, I tried my best to gather up the papers as quickly as I could. Then, I went back to the computer I was using and I went back to the website link Mrs. Rickenbacker gave me. I then began searching out the areas of study in the textbooks I had gathered before, and then I printed out those areas, too. With both gathered up from the printer, I put the papers into my briefcase and then I logged off of the computer. I then walked over to Wilma, who hadn't moved since the last time I saw her. "OK Wilma, I'm done." I said as I walked over to her.

She quickly turned around and said, "Eh, is it OK if I can use the bathroom?"

"Go on ahead. I have to go pay the bill for the services provided anyway."

Without so much as blinking an eye, Wilma got up from her seat and walked quickly towards the women's bathroom. When I turned back to the table, I understood why: she had consumed five drinks in that period of time. I certainly was flabbergasted, and furthermore I felt like an idiot for not setting a limit on her drinks. But at the same time, I knew that whenever someone was bothered by something, they normally got hungry and/or thirsty. After pondering the whole thing, I then walked over to the register and rang the bell to get someone's attention. The person's attention I got was those of Will: not as in Wilma, but in William Talwrn.

By any measure, William Talwrn was a typical Whitesage citizen: an unassuming, reserved, Neo-Pagan who tried to be as worldly as possible in just about everything he did. I didn't know of him until I first came across Connections, but since then I had struck up several interesting conversations with the man, mostly on religious matters. In many ways, he helped me make sense of the Neo-Pagan religions more so than Bryan did.

In any case, he walked over to the cash register and said, "Ah, it's nice to see you again Arthur. I was beginning to wonder what was going on at the Mystic's Emporium."

"Not much new going on there, Will; just the usual activity for this time of year. Eh, I'm here to pay for both the printouts and the drinks that red-haired girl had."

"You know her?"

"Only recently. She's technically my niece."

"Hmm. There's no resemblance to you, now that I think about it."

"Well, her father is Tony; I don't think I need to go any further than that in terms of description."

"Oh. I see. She seemed pretty sad, though."

"Yeah, she's going through some issues in academics, athletics, and outside of school. It's going to be a bear trying to make even a slight dent in these problems in just a week."

"Well, I wish I could help you more with this problem, but psychology was something I never got interested in. You'll have to figure it out yourself. Now, I would like my payment for the papers and the drinks."

"Sure. I printed off these papers, and my niece had five drinks; hopefully they were all the same."

"Yes they were; she selected the Pink Party drink. OK, let me flip through the papers here…" There was a slight pause as he flipped through the papers, counting each one silently. Will then said, "OK that's 36 papers, add five Pink Party drinks, and take into account the sales tax… that'll be ¤46.870."

"All right, let me get out the money for this…" I said, reaching into my wallet, and secretly praying that I had enough to pay for this massive bill. Thankfully, I did, and as I put my wallet away, I immediately thought, _maybe this would be a possible job shadow for Wilma. I don't know if this would be the perfect gig for her, but at least it'll keep busy, and off my back for a little while_. I then looked up and said, "Hey Will, can I talk to you for a sec?"

"About what?"

"Well, eh, I was wondering if you have any space for Wilma to do a job shadow later on this week. Do you have any room?"

"Hm. Maybe I could fit her in sometime, but it all depends on whether or not she wants to work here. Oh, there she is now."

He motioned over to the bathroom doors, and there she was. She looked as gloomy as ever, which wasn't too surprising. Seeing her, I called out, "Hey Wilma, I'd like to ask you a question."

Not saying a word, she sauntered over to the counter. When she arrived, I said, "I had an idea. I thought that, knowing that you're here doing research on Whitesage, that maybe one place that you could do a job shadow would be here at this café. Would that work for you, Wilma?"

She kind of looked down at the floor and said, "I guess so."

Will then said, "What do you mean, 'I guess so'? Either you want to see what goes on back here or you don't…"

"I do want to see what goes on here; I'm just having a hard time right now with everything going on."

"All right. You think that you can come in tomorrow?"

"Yeah. What time do you want me to come in, and how long do you want me to stay?"

"How about you let Arthur drop you off, and then you can stay for about four hours. Will that work for you, Wilma?"

"It should."

"OK, I guess I'll see you two tomorrow then." Will said, looking back at me.

"Same here. Enjoy the rest of the day." We then left.

From there, we walked over to the Howl House. I don't know if it was pure luck, but as I was walking towards the place, I saw one of my good friends coming out: Jaspal.

Jaspal was perhaps the most significant Sikh that lived in Whitesage, as he was the manager of the Tejawswini Palace restaurant. Being that it was the only Indian-style restaurant in my section of New Brunswick, it was an incredibly popular place not only in Whitesage, but also in Codton and Gunnersville. But beyond his wildly successful restaurant enterprise, he was a fairly down-to-earth man with a wry sense of humor, a desire to help out whenever the need arose, and a penchant for tinkering with mechanical devices, many of which served him well for his business.

When Jaspal was coming out, he had in tow his dog, a boxer named Verda. Though she got along with him very well, Verda and Sven couldn't be any different, outside of species: whereas Sven was generally aloof and did not go out of his way to make is acquaintances with anyone who happened to pass by, Verda loved attention from all people and probably would be running amok throughout Whitesage chasing people had it not been for the Howl House wearing her out every weekday. Why she was in the Howl House today wasn't quite clear, as it was a Sunday. But it wasn't my business to know.

As I was walking towards the place, Jaspal was beginning to turn towards me. It therefore was easy for him to spot me and Wilma. "Arthur!" he said to me in his somewhat throaty tone. "I didn't expect to see you around here for today."

"Same for you, Jaspal." I replied. "Trying to wear out Verda, eh?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. I had a food supplier come in today to discuss contracts, and I didn't want her to be jumping around."

"Yeah, I can see what you mean. So, did it go well?"

"It did, though I noticed that the costs went up again, and this time by a noticeable percentage. I may have to raise the menu prices, but I'd rather not." Then, after a short pause, he said, "I doubt you'd be the right man to ask, but do you have any theories…"

"About the prices? Not anything that we already know."

"I figured as much. Oh, I didn't see you back there." Jaspal said, turning to Wilma. "You have business with me or Arthur? Though I must admit you're kind of young."

"Oh, sorry." Wilma responded. "I'm with Arthur."

"Hm. You know him?"

"She's my nie…" But before I could finish, Wilma drove her elbow into the side of my gut, trying to get me to stop talking. "I'm not… THAT, Arthur!"

Jaspal, not surprisingly, looked confused. "Eh, is there something that I… could help…" he said.

"No." Wilma responded, sulking a little. "I've just had a rough day today."

Jaspal took a step forward towards Wilma, and stared at her face for what seemed to be a minute. He then said, "You came across Mr. Alman, most likely. Am I correct… eh…"

"My name is Wilma, and, well, yes." Wilma responded.

Jaspal then stepped back and said, "I had a feeling that such was the case. He has an uncanny ability to get under other people's skin. Thankfully, he's a bit of a recluse, so you shouldn't run into him again, at least not on purpose." Looking at his watch, he then said to Wilma, "Are you new here?"

"I guess you can say that."

"How do you like Whitesage so far?"

"Outside of Derek, it's OK. I still haven't explored all of it, though, so I can't really tell if it's a great place or not."

"For the most part, Whitesage is a good place. It's not perfect; nothing is, but at the very least the people here do their part to make life more bearable."

"Hmm. So, is this your dog, Jaspal?"

"Yes, this is Verda. I've had her for about three years now, though I swear that she acts as if she's only half that age. I'm sorry that she looks a little tired, but owing to my circumstances for today… You must have heard Arthur and I speak earlier…"

"Yeah, I heard about something regarding contracts."

"Yes. I run a restaurant known as the Tejawswini Palace here in Whitesage. It's a really popular place; you should come there sometime."

All of a sudden, I remembered about the job shadows. "Eh, Jaspal, I was wondering about the Tejawswini Palace…"

"What for, Arthur?"

"Well, Wilma here is actually doing a series of job shadows here, and if possible, maybe you would be open to providing one for her."

"Hmm." Jaspal said, scratching his beard a little. "I guess it wouldn't hurt. I have no qualms against allowing an outsider into work, provided that the person is Canadian." Then he smiled at Wilma and said, "Besides, an extra set of hands would certainly help back in the kitchens. Maybe you can come by on Friday; it's one of the busiest days in the food service industry. Sound good?"

"Alright. I'll be around on Friday." Wilma said, though I could sense that she wasn't too thrilled about it.

"OK then. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be needing to get home." With that, Jaspal took Verda and walked away. A few seconds later, I said, "Well, that's another day in the books. We better get Sven; he's probably wondering why I'm late." And with that, both of us went into the Howl House.

When Wilma and I went inside, one thing quickly came apparent: it was unusually quiet. Normally when I or someone else walked in at this time of day, there was a lot of barking, as all of the dogs were thinking that there owners had come. But with the occasional whine in the background, something was definitely amiss. All of that was pushed back when Rebecca, one of the regulars at the Howl House, came to the front desk.

"Hello, Arthur. You're here for Sven, right?" Rebecca said.

"Yes. I hope he hasn't been too much of a problem for you."

"No. I'll go get him; it'll be just a second." With that, Rebecca walked back to the kennels to retrieve Sven. It wasn't a moment after she stepped in that the whining started to get louder. A few moments later, Rebecca came out with Sven in tow. He was very happy to see the two of us, but more so with Wilma, who stood up on his hind legs and started to sniff Wilma's face. Rebecca immediately noticed this and said, "Well, I've never noticed this before! He must really like you!"

"Yes, she seems to have a thing for Sven, or perhaps it's the other way around." I said. Then I realized the significance of what was going on and I then said, "Oh, I forgot to introduce you two! Rebecca, this is Wilma; she's a student from out of town. Wilma, this is Rebecca, one of the regular employees of the Howl House."

"Hi." Wilma said, trying to turn towards Rebecca, though she had a hard time doing so with Sven in her face.

"Nice to meet you, Wilma. You must have a real connection with animals, knowing how Sven is acting."

"I… eh… kind of noticed." Wilma said. I thought of that statement as a bit odd, especially on the delivery: she seemed a bit depressed when she said it. Then I thought, _this might be another good place for her to job shadow_. I then turned to Rebecca and said, "Wilma is a student from out of town and is doing a series of job shadows. Perhaps you could give her a look-see here."

"Sure! How about Tuesday, Wilma?" Rebecca said.

"That would work with me." Wilma answered. "Do you want me to arrive in the morning or the afternoon?"

"The morning would probably be best."

"OK then. I'll see you on Tuesday."

"I'll be looking forward to seeing you here." Rebecca said. Then she turned to me and said, "And I'll see you around next morning as usual, Arthur."

"Same to you too, Rebecca." I said as Wilma, Sven, and I walked out the door.

The walk home was a quiet affair after that. Sven, for whatever reason, didn't seem the least bit tired. This didn't make much sense to me as nearly every other time I came to pick him up, he was exhausted from playing with the other dogs and the keepers. Perhaps having Wilma in my house made him want to conserve his energy until she showed up. And then there was the case of all of the dogs still in the kennel that were whining for no good reason. It was bugging me to no end, and I had no good answer for such activity.

Wilma, on the other hand, seemed very tired and also somewhat depressed. Like with the dogs whining, I had no good explanation for her mood. _Maybe what she needs is a good nap_, I thought to myself. _It isn't everyday that a teenager spends an entire day in a New Age store, spending a good portion of it just moving around goods in the back room. Hopefully her work at the cyber café will be a little more interesting_.

We got to my home around the time the sun started going down. Wilma sat down on the couch, while Sven curled up onto his cushion. I myself went downstairs to my personal office so I could take a closer look at the papers I had printed out. I certainly understood what I had printed out (though it took me a long time to figure it all out, since it had been so long since I had studied a lot of it), but the big problem was on how I was going to present it to Wilma without having her blow a fuse… again.

_How am I to show this to her?_ I thought, looking at the papers, and then quickly glancing at the ceiling. _Sure, it's been a good 2-3 days since she ran off, but what if she just wants to blow off all academic practices altogether and end up spending her life as a transient? And what if I'm to blame for her potential reaction? I know that Derek would be pleased about my actions, but if I do something wrong, I could technically drown in numerous lawsuits passed by her mother. Perhaps even her friends may get into the act and find ways to exact vengeance against me._ Realizing how dumb it was for me to think such things, I quickly shook my head and cleared my mind. Once that was done, I then thought, _I should start with the biology papers. I know that biology is her favorite subject; perhaps that will ease her into these papers. Maybe I'll state that I found it on the Web and that it made me think of her._ But then I thought, after taking a closer look at the biology papers, _But there are nothing about frogs in these papers! How can I sell something like this to her?_

All of this musing ended when I heard Sven scratching the door. I knew that it was now feeding time for him, and it would soon be time for both Wilma and I to eat as well. Putting away the papers for the time being, I opened up the door to see Sven looking impatiently at me. Without saying a word, I walked up the ramp and into the kitchen, where I got Sven's food prepared. I then turned to Wilma, who was still sitting on the couch. "I wish I could say that I would fix you whatever you wanted, but since that's not possible, would you mind if you took a look around the kitchen for something you'd be hungry for?" I said.

Wilma looked over to me and said rather softly, "I don't care. You can fix whatever you want."

"All right then, I'll make some quesadillas, along with some rice and beans." And with that, I went through the kitchen, collecting the materials for the supper.

Throughout the supper preparation, I took a look at Wilma and tried to read her mind. She certainly didn't look that good emotionally. While she wasn't crying or anything of that nature, she just looked as if she had lost a lot of money from a financial scam. I didn't know what was causing her to feel like this, but as I worked, I began to feel as if I was somewhat responsible for her current emotional state. Still, I didn't want her to sit around and do nothing; it would not help her out in the long run, and I didn't want her to spend her days here, sulking. She would be better served being out in the community than just isolating herself in my house. At least, that is what I felt about the whole situation. But I couldn't help feel bad for her owing what I knew from her headmaster, her swim coach, and her mother.

Supper was a very quiet affair. We cleared off the table of food, though I ate the bulk of the meal: Wilma didn't seem to have much of an appetite and almost seemed to strain in order to finish the quesadilla I put on her plate. Once she was done, she quietly made her way back to the main room and sat back down on the couch. I quietly started collecting the dishes and cleaning them off in the sink. Every now and then I looked back to see Wilma, and each time I saw that she hadn't moved. In some ways, it was like looking at a statue and expecting it to crumble, knowing full well that it wouldn't. But I always felt that she would fall apart in some way.

Once the dishes had been cleaned up and put away, I then started to make my way to the basement ramp. But I had barely gotten halfway when I heard Wilma blurt out something. Startled, I quickly made my way up the ramp and into the main room to see Wilma standing in the center of the room, looking very irritated and upset. "Did you say something?" I asked.

"YES!" Wilma responded. "I said, 'Don't even bother!'"

"Bother with what?"

"Bother with getting those dumb papers that you printed back at the cyber café!"

"I didn't print those papers for you…"

"STOP LYING TO ME! Those were school papers you printed out! Didn't you read the paper about the problems you told me to write down?" After a short pause, she then blurted out, "I don't want to do schoolwork… EVER!" Wilma then completely broke down and flopped onto the couch. Confused and frustrated, I began looking around for the noose I had made the earlier in her visit, but failing to find it, I then began to make my way to the front door. But I had barely taken a single step before Wilma then shouted, "And don't go out to get another noose made!"

"But you're miserable…"

"How can you listen to Derek's terrible suggestions like that!"

Realizing how the situation had turned out, I went into the dining room area to retrieve a chair so I had a place to sit. Once that was done, I sat down and said, "Wilma, you know that I'm only trying to help you."

"Well, you're doing a bad job at it!" she responded, her voice muffled by the couch.

I sat in the chair, trying to contemplate what my next move should be. As I sat there, I noticed that Sven, who had been sleeping on his pillow, had gotten up and was walking over to Wilma. He looked very concerned, much like he did when he first directed me towards her. In a way, I was very surprised that he would be so considerate to someone whom he had known for a very short time. Then I thought, _Maybe it was those job shadows I set up. I should ask Wilma about that_. With that, I looked at her and said, "Is it because I set up all of those job shadows today?"

Wilma, whose face was still buried in the couch, said, "No."

"Then what is?" I then asked.

"Those stupid papers you printed out."

"What about them?"

"I don't want to deal with anything school-related."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm too stupid to learn anything."

"Wilma, you're not stupid. It took quite a bit of brains to get all the way here by yourself. I don't think half of the people here in Whitesage around your age could do the same thing."

Hearing that, Wilma got up from the couch and got into a sitting position. Seeing this, Sven quickly got onto the couch section where Wilma's face had been resting and started to whine a little. Paying no attention to this development, Wilma turned to me and said, "That's something entirely different, Arthur. I really am a stupid person."

"And what proof do you have that says you are stupid?"

"The Canadian National IQ Test."

"So? What about it?"

"Well, not too long ago, I along with all of the other students back at my school had to take that dumb test to determine our general placement in future colleges. Out of a perfect score of 100, I got a 79."

"And that's bad because?"

"I AM ONLY ONE OF 20 SOMETHING STUDENTS AT MY HIGH SCHOOL TO GET A SCORE IN THAT LOW RANGE! DOES THAT MEAN ANYTHING TO YOU?"

"In some ways, it does. But in other ways, it does not. After all, you only took the test once; no one can expect an accurate assessment of one's intelligence just by one simple test. And besides, if you felt like your first score was not accurate, you can always ask the provincial Board of Education to take the test again."

"Why should I even bother? I'm just going to fail just as badly as the first time, if not even worse."

"What would be considered a success to you on such a test?"

"At least an 80, though all of my ex-friends all scored at least an 83 when they took the test. But I'll never achieve it knowing how idiotic I am."

"Wilma, I don't think you're idiotic. Maybe a bit misinformed perhaps…"

"Well, the teachers there must do a really good job misinforming me, because I can't seem to do anything right in terms of studies. I can't even do adequate Biology anymore, and that was my favorite subject!"

"Have you talked about trying to find a tutor?"

"It's not worth it. I used to be friends with one of the smartest students in the school, and if she couldn't get me onto the road to academic success, nothing will."

"Don't you think that it would be worth a try?"

"Look, I'm just not cut out for any of this school garbage and that's final! I'd be better off outside of that atmosphere of agony and take my chances doing menial work for the rest of my life."

"I don't think that's the most responsible thing to do, Wilma. Even a simple merchant like myself had to have some college education. And most menial work won't pay enough to live in even the cheapest apartments, unless you are willing to work at least nine hours each day for the entire week."

"Well, it would certainly be better than being seen as a failure in front of my friends. Or my mother. She would throw me into Old Sal if she saw how worthless I am."

"I doubt that she would do that, Wilma."

"You don't know her, Arthur. No woman of her generation as unforgiving and uncaring as my mother. She is always poking her nose into my business and is always insisting that I follow her footsteps in some way. She doesn't allow me to have any fun with my life and she quickly criticizes me for even the smallest mistakes that I make! It's almost as if she never wanted me in the first place."

"I doubt that it is true, Wilma. I think she's only concerned about you and doesn't want you to slip up in such a way that you won't be able to correct it."

"I can't believe that, Arthur. If you ever ran into her, I bet that you would come away with the same feeling that I have!"

I quickly felt a little awkward when Wilma said that. I remembered talking to Susan the day before, and how distraught she felt about having her daughter run away from home. This was completely contradictory to what Wilma had just told me. _True, this is just from her perspective,_ I thought to myself. _But if I could show her how her mother really feels about her, I think the overall assessment could change_. After going through that thought process, I then said to Wilma, "I know that things are kind of hard right now, but I think that if given the choice of keeping you as part of her family…"

"ARE YOU TRYING TO SUPPORT HER!" Wilma screeched, but after seeing me glaring at her, she broke down again and oddly enough, threw herself into my chest. Unnerved by this, I answered, "No, I'm not. I know that I'm only trying to help you out. But as I was saying…"

"I don't care what she thinks!" Wilma sobbed. "My whole life is a wreck! No one likes me… I can't do anything right…"

"Eh… I… I don't think that's the case. But I don't know if I can help you if you're not willing to accept it. Outside of being a towel to absorb your tears." I said. Upon hearing this, she looked up at me. Her eyes were glazed over with sorrow, and her face was full of angst and confusion. After a short time of staring at me, she said, "I… I… I don't know if I can be helped."

"You can be helped. Though right now, you're so upset that it would be best if you rest and think things over. Unless…"

"I know what you are going to say next; I'd rather rest."

"Then in that case, I'm going downstairs to exercise." And with that, I headed downstairs to tax my mind in something a bit more constructive.

For about the next hour or so, I spent it pumping the iron and otherwise doing what I could to take my mind off of the discussion that I had with Wilma. But even with my best efforts, I couldn't stop thinking about Wilma, Susan, and the mess that we were all a part of. _How am I going to get this situation under control?_ I thought as I got up from the bench at one point. _As it is, Wilma will never believe that her situation will improve or that her mother does care about her. I mean, we all have really bad days, but it rarely lasts beyond that._ Stopping for a second to get myself a drink of water, I then thought, _I guess it wouldn't be a bad thing if Wilma decides to live here in Whitesage. There is usually quite a bit of work available even for those who are uneducated, and perhaps living in a more cooperative environment will allow her to get her viewpoints focused into something more constructive._ But as I prepped to grab the pull-up bar, I then thought, _But how am I to convince the Whitesage government about her desire to work? She seems to be about 16 years old, and she can't get any sort of work at that age unless she's a local student. And knowing her attitude towards academics, she'll never accept an arrangement like that._ I then did some pull-ups, all the while thinking about what I was going to do with the situation at hand. Regardless of what I thought up, the results wouldn't be acceptable to at least one person.

After I was done exercising, I thought it was time for me to call Susan. But before I did, I went back upstairs to see where Wilma was. It didn't surprise me in the least when I saw her still on the couch, but I was a bit surprised to see that Sven was still by her side. _He must really like her or otherwise be very concerned about her_, I thought. With that settled, I went back downstairs, went into my private office, locked the door tight, and finally dialed Susan's number. It didn't take long for her to answer: "Hello?"

"Susan?" I asked.

"Yes. Is it… Arthur?"

"Yes it is, Susan."

"Oh, that's a relief. I thought I was going to say Alan. I have a bad way with other people's names."

"Well, it's been a while since we had regular conversations, Susan. It can't be helped."

"Yeah, I know that goes. So how's Wilma?"

"A bit on and off, I'm afraid."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, during the morning and afternoon, she seemed fine for the most part. I even saw her smile once when she saw a frog necklace. But when I tried to get her to do some mock schoolwork, she immediately became despondent and uncooperative."

After hearing something that was a cross between a sigh and a groan, Susan said, "I guess I'm not surprised. She never likes doing schoolwork, especially if it's math."

"So I've noticed. But I don't understand why she gets so worked up about such stuff just because she got a low academic proficiency score."

"Oh, you mean that? Oh, geez. I can't believe that she's still obsessing about that score. I mean, when I took that test back when I was her age, I got an 81, and look how well I've turned out! Just because she got what she sees as a low score doesn't mean that she'll be doomed to menial, low-paying jobs."

"That may be true, Susan. I wish I had the statistics to see if her point is valid or not."

"Maybe I can talk to Mrs. Rickenbacker about that. Anything else she said?"

"Well, I don't think you'll like this, but Wilma did deplore her situation with you, Susan."

"How so?"

"She didn't want to be seen as a failure to your point of view, and she also complained that you were being too controlling."

"Controlling?"

"Well, maybe not controlling. What she really said what that she didn't hated being criticized for her mistakes and didn't want to be forced-fed your ambitions into her."

Once again, I heard another sigh/groan hybrid come over the phone. After that, there was a short silence, and then Susan said, "I can't believe that."

"I don't blame you if you feel hurt about the whole thing. I understand."

"Thank you. But it doesn't make me feel any better."

"Because Wilma doesn't like you?"

"It's just not that, Arthur. It's not being told this directly from Wilma that really hurts me."

"Yeah, I can understand that feeling. Though stuff like that occurred when I was around Wilma's age."

"But that's different. It's one thing to have a problem with your half-brother. It's quite another when you have a problem with one of your parents. I mean, I only want to make sure that she doesn't get herself into the same trouble that I got into when I was around her age."

"You mean when you got married to Tony."

"Exactly. All I have is my job and Wilma, and while I would recover from losing my job, I don't think I can recover from losing Wilma."

"Well, I'm trying everything I can in order to make things right. But it will all depend on whether or not Wilma actually wants the help, and that is my first and foremost goal."

"Alright. I sure hope you can succeed where I have failed."

"I wouldn't go that far, Susan. You haven't failed. And for that matter, Wilma hasn't failed either. The two of you are just in a rough spot right now, and one way or another I'll figure something out."

"Thanks, Arthur. Well, it's starting to get a little late. I'm going to prepare for bed now. You call me tomorrow and tell me what has gone on, OK?"

"Will do, Susan. Bye."

"Bye." With that I hung up. I then turned on my computer, being careful not to let Wilma see it in case she went downstairs to see me. After I let it warm up, I then checked my E-Mail, particularly the spam folder as any of Wilma's friends could've sent something. There wasn't anything of difference, so I then proceeded to shut down the computer.

With all of the contact stuff taken care of, I packed up and went upstairs. When I got into the main room, I saw Sven on Wilma's lap, where she was slowly scratching the area behind Sven's ears. While doing this, I heard Wilma mumble something along the lines of "You're so sweet, Sven. I wish you were mine." She still looked very sad, and I felt very guilty about pushing her buttons the wrong way.

Trying hard not to make things worse, I said, "I'm going to start getting ready for bed. Though you can stay up as late as you want, I would recommend you start getting ready for bed, too." I didn't even bother to look at her as I made my way to the bathroom. And I tried my best not to look at her once I was done with it. Once inside my bedroom, I changed into my nightclothes, turned off the light, and I got into bed. I was asleep in just a few minutes, though I wasn't certainly sound asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Page | 11

_Day 4_

I woke up the next morning without any disruptions, compared to the prior mornings. But I was rather reluctant to get out of bed, owing to how Wilma had dissolved the previous evening. Still, it would look very odd for me to climb out the window so I could go to work, and I didn't want to leave Sven in the house with nothing to do. So after gathering myself up, I walked out of my bedroom and into the kitchen/dining area.

As I expected, Wilma was at the table, having a bowl of cereal. And also like before, she seemed unhappy. Without saying anything and trying hard not to look directly at her, I walked over to the shelf to get myself a bowl and a cup. With those things in tow, I returned to the table and set up some breakfast for myself. From there, the only sounds in the area were the sound of Wilma, Sven, and I munching our breakfasts. It felt very awkward and tense in that morning, as if Wilma was about ready to explode.

After Wilma was done eating, she placed her bowl into the sink. I followed suit and went about cleaning the dishes. _I sure hope I haven't screwed up your mind anymore than I already have_. I thought as I began applying the soap to the bowls. _I'm not trying to be the bad guy. I'm only trying to help sort things out so that you can move on._

Once the dishware was clean, I then went about cleaning up and getting dressed for the day. All the while, I tried my best not to make Wilma anymore upset than she already was. But I knew that, eventually, I would have to face her. I was her half-uncle, after all, and it was my responsibility to take care of her for the time.

That time came almost too soon, as I was ready to go to work. That meant I needed to call Wilma to get her to go to the Howl House, as per the job shadow. With great reluctance, I said, "Are you ready to go to Connections, Wilma?"

To my relief, I heard her say, "Just about. Let me get my shoes on."

"OK. But don't take too long. I don't want to be late for work."

I didn't really need to worry, as Wilma was out of the guest area about only five seconds later. Once out in the main room, she said, "I hope I didn't keep you waiting."

"You didn't." I replied. "Now, because this is a regular work day for me, I won't be coming home until quite late, and your job shadow will be over with fairly early. So once you get off of work, head straight home. It might be wise to ask for a visitor pass, so as not to alert the police."

"But why is that needed?" Wilma asked.

"Well, I hate to say it to you, but the police are quite strict about letting people of your age group dink around during school hours, and…"

"OK, I get your point." Wilma said, looking bemused. "How then do I obtain one of these passes?"

"You can ask William for one of them. By law, every business in Whitesage is required to keep a number of them for purposes similar to yours."

"I sure hope you know what you're doing, Arthur. Anyway, we better get going." And with that Wilma, Sven, and myself were out the door and off to work.

Minutes later, we were at the Howl House. After dropping off Sven, we stopped by Connections. "Well, here we are, Wilma. I'll see you this evening." I said.

"OK then. I'll see you then." Wilma said. She then walked through the door and walked towards the counter. Seeing that she was in the right spot, I then walked off to the Mystic's Emporium to do my work.

The first half of the day's work was nothing unusual. It was pretty quiet for the day, with me doing more of the paperwork and keeping tabs on the inventory. There was some talk about the upcoming Samhain festival, but nothing that got us really talking, especially in my case. I felt entirely wasted by the time lunch arrived, something that Bryan was quick to notice.

I was munching away on an apple when Bryan approached me. "Are you doing OK, Arthur?" he said.

I looked up and said, "I guess so. Is there something wrong?"

"Not really. You seem kind of preoccupied."

"To be honest, I am." I said, putting the apple down on the desk. "I've been having issues in regards to taking care of Wilma."

"You mean the redheaded girl that came in yesterday?"

"Yes. She's an emotional wreck, and I don't know how to make her feel better."

"Well, she seemed to be quite interested in that frog necklace."

"I don't that will help her out in the long run, Bryan. She has a ton of issues that can't be fixed with something as simple as a frog necklace."

"Like what?"

"Oh, she's in bad straits with her mother, her friends, her boyfriend…"

"Oh, I get it. The usual teenage girl problems."

"I haven't finished yet, Bryan. She also has problems with her academics, and she also has problems with the swim team, in which she's a member."

"As I said before, the usual teenage girl problems. Except for the swim team part." Bryan said.

"Not to be rude, Bryan, but why would you care? You don't have a family."

"No, I don't. But I do have siblings that have teenage offspring. Particularly my older brother, Martin; he has two boys and a girl in that teenager group. And my older sister, Ella, has a girl in that age group, and another will be joining her later this year."

"Hm. I never heard. Or maybe I heard and I forgot." After a short break, I then asked Bryan, "Have any of your siblings gone insane raising them?"

"I don't get what you're trying to say, Arthur." Bryan replied in a serious tone. I quickly realized that he DID get what I was trying to say, but didn't like how I worded it. Understanding my mistake, I then said, "Let me rephrase that. How much trouble have they had trying to raise them?"

"Some. Of course, that's normal; teenagers tend to be rather unhinged."

"Well, how do they do it without doing something regretful?"

"As I can't speak for them, the best advice is to treat them much like a spouse: in that, one should be patient and listen. I think there are a few other things, but that's the primary thing." After another break, he then said, "Why did you ask me this?"

"Well, it's in regards to Wilma. She's technically my niece." I answered.

"Eh… I find that hard to believe. She doesn't look much like you."

"Let me explain, Bryan." I then spent a good ten minutes explaining the predicament I was in. When I was done, I noticed the disbelief on Bryan's face, who then said, "Are you sure you haven't been smoking something?"

"No! It's all true! I'm just trying to take care of her until we can get things straightened out, and I need advice on the best way to handle her until the end of this week."

"I wish I could help out more, but what I've told you is the best I can do for now." After stretching a bit, he then said, "Well, the lunch break is almost over, Arthur. You better get back to your apple." And with that he left. I was then left eating the remains on my apple, frustrated on not getting any more info needed to help my cause.

The rest of the day went by quite slowly, and soon enough, I was out the door and towards the remaining stops.

The first stop was Connections to print out the next section of homework for Wilma, though I had doubts that it would ever get done. The place was mostly empty, though there were a few teenagers at some of the computers. I slipped into one of the vacant computers and logged in. I saw that the new documents from Mrs. Rickenbacker were up, but I also a new message from someone named Taranee in the Spam file. _Wait a minute. That's one of Wilma's friends!_ I thought as I stared at the E-Mail message. _Eh, I'll read it once I get back home before I go to bed._ I then moved the message into my Inbox section, and then I went to Mrs. Rickenbacker's E-Mail, where I printed out the attachments. From there I collected the papers and I walked over to William for the tab. "Hi Will." I said as I approached the counter. "How's your day been?"

"Reasonable." William replied. "And yours?"

"Can't complain, though it was a bit dull. By the way, how did the job shadow go?"

"You mean the one with Wilma?"

"Yes. I can't think of any others I would be referring to."

'You've got a point, Arthur. Overall, it went pretty well, though Wilma insisted being in the back area making the drinks and other stuff. When I asked about the insistence, she said that because of my name, it reminded her of her former friends. She seemed quite down in the dumps after saying that."

"Well, that's because her friends called her Will. I find it rather odd that she got such a name like that."

"Perhaps she's a bit of a tomboy." William suggested.

"Perhaps. Anyway, I've already told you about her problems and my quest to deal with them, so I don't need to say much more on that." I stated. "Now, while I'm here, is it OK if you could get a few paninis to go alongside with the printouts?"

"Sure. What kind would you like?"

"How about one with chicken and another with tilapia. I can then split them in half and allow Wilma to have a taste of each."

"Anything else?"

"I think that'll be it for tonight, Will."

"Alright then. I'll be back with the paninis and I will then ring them up along with the printouts." With that, Will went to the kitchen out back. He was back about ten minutes later with a bag containing the sandwiches. After paying ¤32.230 for everything, I was then out the door and towards the Howl House, where I picked up Sven and was on my way home.

It was about 6:50 PM when I finally got to the house. After letting Sven off the leash, I then put the sandwiches into the oven and went to the guest area, as I figured Wilma went in there. I was correct; she was on the futon, snoozing. Knowing that I had brought food, I tapped her on the shoulder, to which she groaned and opened her eyes. "Hi Wilma." I said as she began to sit up. "I'm home."

"Ugh." Wilma said. "You took forever to get home. What was holding you up?"

"Well, I work from 8:30 in the morning to 5:30 in the evening. I stopped by Connections to talk to William to see about how the job shadow went and to get supper for the two of us, and then I dropped by the Howl House to pick up Sven. It takes a while to get all of those things done."

"Eh, I guess I can't blame you for taking so long. It's just that there's nothing to do here."

"You can always read one of my books to pass the time."

"I'd rather lick a poison dart frog."

In response to that comment, I rolled my eyes, as if to let her know that it was only a suggestion. I then said, "I have supper, provided that you want it."

"Oh yes. All I had for lunch was a chicken salad offered at work."

"Oh. I got two sandwiches, and one of them was chicken. I take it then that you don't want that sandwich."

"Well, what's the other sandwich?"

"It's consists of tilapia."

"What's that?"

"It's a common type of fish."

"I'll have that, then. You can have the chicken sandwich, if you don't mind."

"No. I'm perfectly fine with it." And with that, we made our way to the kitchen/dining area, where I pulled out the sandwiches while Wilma got some plates and cups. Pretty soon the two of us were munching away at our sandwiches, though Wilma was eating hers at quite a pace I hadn't seen prior to tonight; she must have been very hungry. Seeing this, I said, "You must have been hungry, Wilma."

"I am." Wilma responded. "That salad I had wasn't terribly filling."

"I guess so." After I took a bite out of my sandwich, chewed it, and swallowed it, I then said, "So, how did the job shadow go?"

"I guess it went OK, but I refused to work up at the counter because of William."

"Why is that?" I asked, though by now I knew the reason why.

"Well, it reminds me of the nickname my former friends used to call me by." Wilma responded. While she said this, she became rather depressed yet again.

"You mean Will?"

"Exactly. I thought everyone ordering stuff or paying for stuff would call him Will, and I can't deal with that. Not after what I've been through."

"Well, I'm sorry that you fell like that, Wilma. I just thought that it would help cover the fact about our awkward situation, and at the very least it'll keep you from being bored."

"Yes, it did help me out in the boredom department. I appreciate that." After a short break, Wilma then said, "I'm going to the Howl House for my next job shadow, right?"

"Yes. Since you'll be with Sven, you can take him home with you when the job shadow is done."

"OK. Just thought I'd ask."

"Don't be afraid to ask questions, Wilma. I'm more than happy to answer them."

The rest of the supper went by uneventfully for the two of us. I then began cleaning the table, while Wilma left for the main room with Sven in tow. I was just about done with the table when Wilma said, "Arthur, would it be OK if you could take me swimming tonight?"

I stumbled a little when I heard that. Considering that her issues with the swim team had contributed to her running off, that was one of the last things I ever expected to hear from her. After getting my bearings set again, I asked, "Eh… I didn't hear you quite clearly, Wilma. What did you say?" I knew that it was a lie, since I did hear her very clearly.

"I would like to go swimming, Arthur. If there's a swimming pool around town, can you take me there?" Wilma responded.

After setting the wash cloth back into the sink, I walked into the main room where, as before, Wilma on the couch and Sven on her lap. I then said, "I thought that would be one of the furthest things from your mind, owing to what happened back at your home."

"Does it really matter?" Wilma said. "There's nothing for me to do here, and I've almost always gone swimming whenever I have some down time in the past few years."

I could've gone into a spiel regarding her 'does it really matter' comment, but I knew it wasn't in my best interest to bring it up. And I also knew that I hadn't had much exercise in the past few days, so with those two things in mind, I said, "Well, if you want to go swimming, that's fine with me. That is, of course, you brought along a swimsuit with you."

"I have that, Arthur. I wouldn't ask about going swimming otherwise. I actually have quite a bit more than just that, to be honest with you."

"So I hear. Well, let me get some of my stuff, and by that time our digestive tracks will have settled down enough that we can hit the water."

"What kind of stuff are you talking about?"

"Mainly my swimwear, plus my inflatable boat set. Every once in a while I go to the pool area to row, and it's actually been awhile since I've done that."

"That sounds like a plan, Arthur. Let me go get my stuff together, and I'll then get cleaned up." And with that Wilma left for the guest area. Once the door was closed, I went to my bedroom to gather up my aquatic gear, which included a jammer, a rash guard, a wetsuit, and the aforementioned inflatable raft along with the oars and a hand pump. After going through everything, I packed them into some of my grocery bags and I then entered the main room. Only Sven was there, sitting on the couch and looking towards the door that led to the bathroom. Knowing that Wilma was showering, I then sat on the couch to wait.

Soon enough, Wilma was done cleaning up and emerged from the bathroom. She was wearing the same clothes as she did prior: a t-shirt, a pair of jeans, and her sneakers; more likely than not she had put on her swimsuit and then put on her clothes over it to save time in the locker room. Barely noticing me, she said, "Let me get my stuff, and then we'll be on our way." She then walked into the guest area, and came out a few seconds later with a small duffel bag in tow and her jacket on. "OK, Arthur. I'm ready."

"Alright then. Let me get the keys." I said. I then turned to Sven and said, "Sven, I'll be back in an hour or two. Please don't do anything stupid." I said. I then went to grab the keys, and soon enough we were out of the house, the doors were locked, and we were walking out to the South Whitesage RCA Center.

The South Whitesage Recreation, Community, and Activity Center (or RCA for short) was one of two RCA centers in Whitesage. The first one, located in the northern part of Whitesage, was started in 1970 and was completed five years later. And for a while, it served all of Whitesage quite well. But owing to the rapid growth of the town, having one such center was simply impractical. In 1993, construction on a second RCA center on the south side of town began, and it too was completed five years later. Regardless of whatever locale one chose, both facilities were much like Recreation centers throughout North America. Of course, Wilma and I came to the RCA center for the use of its aquatic center.

Being that it was a Monday, there wasn't too much activity going on in the RCA center from what Wilma and I could see. Without giving it much thought we walked into the front door, where we were greeted by the doorman. I didn't recognize him, so I assumed that he just started. "Let me get out my ID card, sir. I'm a citizen here." I told him as I got into my wallet and took out my card, along with some money. The man looked at the card and said, "It looks good. Does the young lady have her ID card?"

"No. She's actually out of town."

"So I see. In that case it'll be ¤17.000."

"I have the cash, sir." I then dished out the proper currency, and after taking a look at things, he said, "Everything seems to be in order. Let me get your cards prepped." He then took out two small index cards and, using one of those classic library stampers, stamped in the date onto the blank line. "Here are your cards. Enjoy yourselves." He then pulled open the gate and we were both inside. As we walked through the lobby, Wilma said, "What are the cards for?"

"They are used to show that you are using the facilities legally, and they are good for the entire day, so one can return here later in the day without paying again, provided that one has the card in possession." I answered.

"That makes sense." Wilma said. Then she looked at me and said, "I sure hope the pool is still open; it's kind of late."

"Don't worry, Wilma. The pools here are open until midnight, so we have plenty of time to use it."

She seemed a bit relieved when I told her that. About a minute later we were at the locker rooms. "Alright Wilma, I'll see you in a bit." I said to Wilma.

"OK, Arthur." Wilma responded, and with that she entered the women's locker area. I then entered the men's locker area, and after finding an empty locker I began to change into the more appropriate attire in one of the bathroom stalls. _Why would Wilma want to go swimming?_ I thought as began to undress. _It doesn't make any sense on someone who had her life ruined in part due to a demotion on the swim team. Outside of going home, this is one of the last things she would do._ I cleared my mind just long enough to completely change into my aquatic ensemble, and I then began working on inflating my raft, which I remembered took quite a long time to fully inflate. _I sure hope that this was not a metaphor for something else. I can't see her purposefully drowning herself, but I can't imagine her swimming, as it'll probably bring back bad memories._ Eventually, the raft was fully inflated, and once the hand pump was put away in the locker, I was then out to the pool area with raft, oars, and a towel in hand.

As one might imagine, the pool area of the RCA center was not just one pool, but a series of pools. For this RCA center, there were four: first, there was a small, shallow, circular pool off to the side and fenced off with a gate called the youngster pool; I don't have to go into further description with that one. Closest to the locker room was the recreation pool that was 15 meters square and about 1 meter deep. This pool was used by amateur swimmers and for all sorts of other aquatic activities, and it wouldn't surprise me if it was the most used of all of the pools. Next to it was the actual swimming pool, which was 15 meters wide, 25 meters long, and about 3 meters deep. This was where the experienced swimmers went, and it was where I would do my rowing exercises. Finally, next to that was the diving pool, which was 15 meters square, about 5 meters deep, and was equipped with three pairs of springboards at 1, 2, and 3 meters heights. This was used by both divers in the traditional sense, but was also used for scuba diving classes. There was a pair of lifeguards stationed at each pool.

The pool area as a whole wasn't very busy; only 2 other adults were using the swimming pool. Not seeing Wilma anywhere, I walked over to one of the tables off to the side and placed my towel onto one of the chairs. I then walked to the swimming pool and placed my raft into the 2nd lane. I crawled into the raft and got the oars into the slots, and I was just about to start rowing when I heard Wilma shout out, "Arthur! I'm over here!"

I looked to my right, and I saw Wilma standing to the side of the swimming pool. She was wearing a black swimsuit with two vertical pink stripes running down the straps and sides and a solid black swim cap, and she had a pair of swim goggles running across the top of her cap. I got out of the raft and walked over to her. "Sorry that I kept you waiting." Wilma said.

"Eh, it's no problem, Wilma." I responded. "I'm going to go start rowing, so…"

"Hang on a second. Can you get a stopwatch?"

I was quite puzzled when I heard that. I didn't think she would EVER say something of that nature, but I didn't want to refuse her, so I replied, "Let me go to the supply office and I'll see if I can find one. Be sure to go watch my raft, OK?" Wilma nodded her head in compliance, and I walked over to the supply office in an attempt to fill in the rather odd request.When I got there and knocked on the door, a middle-aged woman responded. "Is there something I can help you with?" she asked.

"Yes. I was wondering if I could borrow a stopwatch." I responded. Unsurprisingly, the woman looked at me funny, and then asked, "Why?"

"My… niece requested it." I said. I then looked back towards the pool area and saw Wilma stretching out along the parameter. Content that she hadn't left, I then turned back to the women in the supply office and said, "She didn't give me a reason."

"Must be an outsider." The woman mumbled under her breath. She then looked up at me and said, "Hold on, I'll be back with the stopwatch." She then went back into the office, and I swear it wasn't more than ten seconds later that she emerged with a stopwatch. After handing over the stopwatch, she said, "Here you are, sir. And don't blame me if others look at you funny."

Without saying anything, I nodded towards her as if to say 'Thanks', and I walked back to Wilma, who was still stretching out along the side of the pool. "I got the stopwatch, Wilma." I said to her as I got closer.

"Oh, thank you, Arthur." She responded. "Let me get into position and…"

"Eh… Wilma. I was wondering something."

"About what?"

"The stopwatch. What do you need it for?"

"I need it so that you can time me."

"I thought you wanted nothing to do with this sort of swimming, especially owing what you told me earlier." I said as if to remind her not to bring her troubles out in public.

"Arthur, this is what I live for." Wilma explained as she adjusted her goggles over her eyes. "Besides, if I don't swim every now and again, I don't feel right."

"Well, if you insist." I said. "I still don't like your idea, though." Halfway ignoring me, Wilma climbed up onto the starting platform, looked over to me and said, "I plan on swimming the 50-meter freestyle, which means start timing me on the signal and stop timing me when I touch out back here. Whenever you're ready, I'm ready."

Reluctantly, I brought the stopwatch up to my eyeline, and slowly said, "Get ready." Wilma responded by taking the starting position; after waiting a second, I then said firmly, "GO." And at the same time I started up the stopwatch and Wilma launched herself off of the platform and into the water; soon after she was up on the surface and doing the front crawl at a fairly remarkable rate. _Wow, she can certainly swim fast_. I thought as I saw her swim out to the wall. _She's a much faster swimmer than…than…_ I then stopped thinking for a minute, as I immediately remembered that Tony, her father, was also a swimmer. I then began to remember back to my high school days, and I remembered watching Tony swimming in a team practice, thinking about how stupid it was that he was doing this. To be fair, he was a competent swimmer, but I knew that it was all just a ploy to get the girls.

My thoughts were quickly flooded out when I began hearing splashing sounds, and that they were getting progressively louder. _Oh right! The stopwatch!_ I thought as I put my attention back towards Wilma and her swimming. About a second later, she touched the wall and I stopped the stopwatch. While I waited for Wilma to catch her breath, I looked up at the Whitesage record boards and then looked at the stopwatch, and the difference of times was quite noted. "That was a really good race you put on!" I said. "You actually beat the best Whitesage 50-meter freestyle time by about two seconds."

"That's irrelevant to me." Wilma said blankly. "All that matters is the time on the stopwatch. What does it say?"

"Oh that. It says 28.51." Apparently, that wasn't a very good for her, as once she heard the time, she slammed her fists into the water and screeched, "DANG IT! WHY CAN'T I SWIM ANY FASTER!"

Everyone in the area quickly had their eyes on us. I was very embarrassed by the whole scene, but Wilma seemed entirely oblivious to all of the eyes on us. _I should have refused her stopwatch request_. I thought as I tried to get Wilma's voice out of my ears. _I just hope I can defuse her bad mood before another bad thing happens_. Putting the stopwatch into the raft, I then said to Wilma, "I take it that the time I told you isn't as good as you would like."

"I don't get it." Wilma said, completely ignoring what I said. "How can be swimming this poorly?"

"Well, I wish I had the answers, Wilma, but as this is my first time seeing you swim, I have no idea what advice I can give you." I said.

"I don't think any sort of advice can help me." Wilma said. "It's just that, I was so good at swimming in the past, and now I can't seem to get past the 28 second mark." She then sighed and mumbled, "At this rate I'll never be as competitive as Cornelia."

_Cornelia. _I thought. _That name sounds awfully familiar… Wait! That's one of her friends! Maybe I can find a way to solve one of her problems_. So, while trying hard not to let the beans spill, I said to Wilma, "Is this Cornelia you are talking about the girl that got promoted…"

"No." Wilma responded as she took her goggles off. "She's an ice skater, and a really good one. Ever since I've known her, she's won just about every ice skating competition she participated in, and two years ago was even offered to travel with the Canadian ice skating teams to the Winter Olympics."

"Did she?"

"She declined. But the point is that all she seems to do is win, and as things stand right now, I won't even get the chance to win."

_Hmmm. Maybe this is the problem._ I thought. _Perhaps she's been so fixated on winning that she's forgotten why she swims in the first place. If I can redirect her focus towards a less competitive mindset, maybe she will rethink her priorities_. I then stepped into the raft and leaned over towards Wilma, who still was rather frustrated about her performance. "Wilma, I'd hate to ask questions, knowing the mood that you are in. But I want to help you out, and I can only do so if you are willing to listen." Wilma nodded her head yes and said, "OK, I'm listening."

"How did you get interested in swimming as a whole?"

"Well, it was back when I was five years old." Wilma said. "It had been a year or so since my parents got divorced…"

I winched a bit when I heard that, as I knew exactly what she was referring to. She must have seen this, as she then said, "Are you OK, Arthur?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. That divorce comment kind of struck a nerve." I said.

"I don't blame you. I have issues with that myself." Wilma admitted. "Anyway, my mother had a business trip to the Bahamas that she needed to attend. It was for only a few days, but out of concern for me she decided to take me along and added a few extra days to the trip. And one of the things that we decided to do after her business stuff was done was to snorkel out in the reefs."

"I'm assuming that you really liked it."

"Well, if you ever talk to my mother, she'll tell you that what she remembers most about the snorkeling activity is me hitting my head against a rock while I was swimming towards some fishes. But to me, what I remember most is seeing all of the sea-life and its surroundings in all of its shapes and colors, and being entranced by it all. It felt as if it was all a beautiful dream that I wanted to live forever.

After that, I tried to go swimming whenever I could get the chance, regardless of the time of year. Though it wasn't the same as snorkeling in a tropical reef, the pool didn't feel as dull as it did when I was learning to swim. In a way, it became my home away from home, and for a while I cherished it a bit more every time I visited the changing room and smelled the chlorine."

"I see. Now, another question. Why then did you take up competitive swimming?"

"Well, I originally took up competitive swimming so I could swim more often, and because I thought I would be good at it. And at first I WAS good at it. But for some reason, I'm not good at it anymore, and it's gotten to the point where I've stopped enjoying it. Even while I was changing back at your place, I was having second thoughts about getting back into the water." After a short pause, she said, "I'm sorry that I made such a scene, Arthur. This whole idea of mine was really stupid."

_Well, I guess I could've figured it out on my own, but at least now I know where she stands._ I thought. _And now I know exactly what needs to be done to solve this problem, if only to rekindle a passion in her life_. With the thoughts gathered up, I then said to Wilma, "Don't try to take it so hard, Wilma. I understand how frustrating it is not to perform up to your standards or the standards of someone else, but I think the problem is not in regards to swimming, but rather HOW you are swimming."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I don't mean by your technique, if that's what you think. What I was referring to was your fixation to use swimming as a way to achieve a goal instead of swimming for the sake of enjoyment. I remember reading a quote from a book called the Art of Peace that says testing, competing with, and criticizing others weakens and defeats you. Now, this quote was more based on the regular dealings in life, but the way I see it, there are plenty of connections to athletics. By spending so much time trying to make oneself better over others in athletic endeavors, we are making some people greedy and superficial via their success, while leaving the others miserable via their failures.

It seems as if you have gotten caught up in this travesty, and look what it has done to you: all you are concerned with is victory, and in the process you have turned you passion of swimming into an end unto itself, instead of using swimming as a means to an end, which is leaving you all bent out of shape. If you can rethink of swimming for the sake of enjoyment, much like you did back in your childhood, I believe that you will rekindle that passion."

Wilma's face throughout that little lecture was quite hard to read; there must have been a lot of emotions and thoughts running through her head during that time. Perhaps after getting all of her thoughts in order, she said, "So, are you telling me that I should QUIT the swim team?"

"To be honest, if I were you, I would do so." I said flatly. "But I'm not you. Provided that you ever go home, if you stay with the swim team, that's your decision. But I would really reconsider your commitment to something that makes you frustrated more often than not." After waiting a minute, I said, "Well, I guess we better get going back home."

"Eh, is it OK if we can stay at the pool a bit longer?"

"Why? I don't want to make more upset than you already are."

"No, I didn't mean it like that." Wilma explained. "Sometimes I go swimming just to clear up and some of my thoughts, and after you saying all that you did, there's a lot I need to think about."

"So in other words, you are going to consider my advice, both literally and metaphorically." I said.

"I guess you can say it that way." Wilma said as she put her goggles back on. "I'll let you know when I'm ready to go back." And with that she dunked down, pushed off of the wall, and began swimming the front crawl again, but this time at a more leisurely pace. I then got the oars situated into the slots of the raft and began rowing. _I hope that you drop your obsession with competing with others, Wilma._ I thought as I made my way to the midpoint of the pool. _All it ever does is make life harder than it should be. Just be happy with your passion, and let it be._

For the next half hour or so, Wilma and I went about our aquatic activities. It only stopped when Wilma waved at me from one end of the pool, signaling that she had done enough swimming for the evening. I rowed over to her and said, "You done?"

"Yes." Wilma said. She didn't sound the least bit tired. "I think it's getting a bit late."

After seeing the clock, I said, "You're right. Let me get my stuff out, and then we can get changed." With that I carefully made my way out of the raft, while Wilma dunked down and swam over to the nearest pool ladder. Once out of the pool, she took off her goggles, walked over to me and asked, "Do you need any help carrying your things?"

"Oh no, Wilma. I can manage by myself. Thanks for the offer, though." I responded. We then walked over to the tables to retrieve our towels, and I waited while Wilma dried herself off with hers. She looked and seemed far more content than she had prior, which was a good sign. I could still sense there was quite a bit of angst within her; whether it was about her poor swimming time or something else was not clear.

Once Wilma was done getting dried off, we walked over to the locker entrances, where I said to Wilma, "You can go ahead; I need to drop off the stopwatch."

"OK Arthur. I'll see you in a bit." Wilma responded, and she then went into the women's locker room. I went over to the supply office, where I dropped off the stopwatch. The woman didn't seem to notice, though it might have been that she didn't want to notice I returned the stopwatch, owing to what happened earlier. I couldn't blame her for feeling like that; the whole incident was definitely upsetting by any standard. But I didn't have any time to dwell on it, and it wouldn't do me any good to do so. So with that, I made my way into the men's locker room and changed back into my street clothes. As before, I was out of the men's locker room before Wilma was outside of the women's, though I probably was waiting no more than five seconds before she emerged. Without saying anything, we made our way to the front door and left, but not before I said to the doorman, "Have a nice evening." He nodded to me, as if to say the same thing to me.

The walk home was rather quiet and uneventful, though it was a bit chilly. This was not unusual for October in Whitesage, but it was far more noticeable after spending a good half hour or so in the pool area of the RCA center, which is always quite warm. I could only imagine how Wilma was feeling; she spent her time in the water whereas I spent it out of the water.

We eventually made it back to my place. Sven, who was sleeping on the couch when we arrived, quickly bounded off of the couch and jumped up on Wilma, his tail wagging wildly. "Oh hi, Sven!" Wilma said as he approached her. "Did you miss me?" I could notice out of the corner of my eye that she was smiling a bit, though I was sure that she didn't notice. I then went about the house to make sure that nothing got tore up, and seeing that everything was in its proper place, I said, "I'm going downstairs to take care of some little things and then I'll take a shower."

"OK Arthur. I'll be taking a shower myself pretty soon, and then I'll go to bed." Wilma responded. I then headed downstairs and waited for Wilma to start taking her shower. Once I heard the water running, I then called Susan. After the obligatory hello, I said, "So, how are things?"

"About as good as they can be, owing the circumstances." Susan replied. "How's Wilma?"

"She's doing OK, though she still quite frustrated about her swimming times."

"You took her swimming?"

"Yes. It was her idea. And it was also her idea to be timed in a 50-meter freestyle swim. Looking back at it, I should have made her reconsider that thought."

"I probably would have too, Arthur. Up until she ran off, she had been complaining about not swimming as fast as she wanted to…"

"Well, apparently, a time of 28.51 is considered too slow for her. And like you, I don't know much about what would be considered a good swimming time in the 50-meter freestyle, even though I watched Tony swim it a few times when I was Wilma's age."

"Oh yeah. I completely forgot that Tony was part of the Fadden Hills High School swim team. Eh, but his efforts really wouldn't apply that well to Wilma." After a short pause, Susan said, "So, what exactly happened?"

"Well, she raised a big stink about her performance. I decided to ask a few questions about how she got involved with swimming…"

"Oh, you mean about that trip we took to the Bahamas where she bumped her head against a rock during a snorkeling activity?"

"Yeah, that's the example she gave to me."

"Don't I ever remember that one. She had a bruise of her forehead for days afterward, not to mention how much pain she was in after she hit her head. Though to be fair, after the soreness went away, she wanted to return to the water. I made sure to keep a close eye on her whenever she went swimming after that."

"I see. Now I understand what Wilma was saying to me at the pool when she told me the story."

"Anyway, Arthur, what happened after Wilma's meltdown?"

"I went on a spiel about how swimming as a competitive endeavor was bad, and that she should just swim for the sake of enjoying the activity. Or, to put it more simply, I told her that it would be in her best interest to quit the swim team. Of course, I left it open-ended for her sake, since it would be her decision to quit or not."

"Hmm. I never thought of it that way. And it would be nice for her to have more time to do her homework, provided that she had the drive to do it."

"Well, let's not jump ahead, Susan. She hasn't made up her mind about quitting the swim team just yet, though after swimming at a leisurely pace for a good half hour, she seemed a bit more relaxed and agreeable than before. She even offered to carry some of my rowing goods when we were done, as I went rowing in the pool while she went swimming."

"I see. Anything else?"

"Her little job shadow at a cyber café went well, though she insisted on working behind the scenes, since the person in charge of the café section is named William."

"Oh. I see. I can understand why she'd do that."

"Yeah. Anyway, is there anything significant going on back in Heatherfield?"

"Well, Taranee called me to ask about what was going on with Wilma, and I told her about where she was and the predicament she's in. As I promised, I gave her your E-Mail address to send a message to you, and I told her to forward the message to the other girls."

"Actually, I got an E-Mail from Taranee just this afternoon. I haven't looked at it, though. Anything else worth saying to me?"

"No, not really. I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow evening."

"OK Susan. Take it easy, and I'll hear from you tomorrow. Bye."

"Bye." Susan said. I then put the phone up and turned on the computer. After it warmed up a bit, I checked my E-Mail account and found Taranee's E-Mail straight away. After opening up the E-Mail, the message read as thus:

I was told from Ms. Vandom that Will ran off here, and that I should use your E-Mail address to contact you.

I don't know what set Will off, but if it's me, I'm terribly sorry. I would never purposely hurt her, no matter how bad of a mood each of us might be in. If you can tell me what's been eating at her, I promise I will do whatever I can to help.

I've sent word of your E-Mail address to the rest of our group so that they may communicate with you. I suspect that you'll be getting E-Mails from them tomorrow, if not sooner.

Please be gentle with Will until she gets back home.

Sincerely, Taranee

After noting what was written, I closed out of my account and turned off the computer. I then went upstairs to check on Wilma, who by now had been finished with her shower. She was now in her pajamas, with Sven laying his head on her lap. "You doing OK?" I asked.

"Yeah. I'm just drying out a bit before I go to bed." Wilma responded.

"I see. Well, let me get my night clothes, and then I'll get cleaned up and ready for bed."

"OK Arthur. I'll probably be in bed by the time you get done cleaning up, so if you don't see me in the main room, that's the reason why."

"Understood, Wilma." I said. I then walked into my bedroom to get my night clothes and I then heading back downstairs to get cleaned up when Wilma said, "Oh, one last thing before I go to bed."

"And that is?" I asked

"Thanks for taking me to the pool this evening."

"Don't mention it, Wilma. I'm just trying to make your life more enjoyable." I then continued my trek downstairs and, once in the basement bathroom, I took a shower. Once that was done I headed back upstairs, where I saw only Sven on the couch. I then went into my bedroom and fell asleep very quickly.


	5. Chapter 5

Page | 28

_Day 5_

I woke up feeling a bit better than I had the previous few days. Looking back at it, I was quite sure that the rowing exercises had released the tension built up since I had come across Wilma. After I made my bed, I made my way to the kitchen and dining area. Though seeing Sven eating was no real shock, I was surprised to see Wilma was up and about in the kitchen, gathering up some of the breakfast necessities. She seemed quite absorbed at the tasks at hand – she didn't notice me coming out of my bedroom – so I said, "You seem energetic this morning, Wilma."

Wilma turned over to me and said, "I'm not energetic, Arthur. I'm just like I've always been in the morning."

"That may be true from your perspective. But from my sight, it's something else." Wilma chose not to respond and returned to gathering up the foodstuffs. Hoping that I didn't cross a line, I simply walked into the kitchen and collected a pair of bowls, cups, and spoons. I then brought them all to the table and sat down at almost the same time that Wilma did. After I let her get served with her cereal, milk, and juice, I then did the same. As I did, I said to Wilma, "So, did you sleep well last night?"

"Actually, I did sleep better than I had the previous few nights." Wilma stated. "How about you?"

"Perhaps. I don't feel as tense as I have been feeling. But I don't know if it was due to my sleep or the rowing I did last night." After a short pause, I then said, "So, have you made up your mind about the swim team issue?"

"Eh, not really." Wilma responded quietly. "You made a very good point back at the pool last night, and I would like to enjoy swimming in a less competitive nature. But if I leave the swim team, everyone will think I'm a quitter."

"And what's wrong with that?"

"If I'm seen as a quitter, then everyone will think automatically that I'm a failure."

"Wilma, don't be concerned with what everyone else thinks. It's what makes you feel the best that matters most."

"Maybe. But if I do leave the swim team, how will I explain it to Cornelia?"

I stopped for a second in order to gather my feelings. _Hmm. Wilma seems to talk about this Cornelia a lot._ I thought as I took a bite of cereal. _And Susan said that this was one of her friends? Something doesn't add up; perhaps it's time I try to poke around her social group_. Once I had swallowed the chewed-up cereal, I then said to Wilma, "You seem to be talking about this Cornelia quite a bit, Wilma. Is she like a bully?"

"What? Cornelia? Oh, no, no!" Wilma sputtered. "She's not a bully!"

"Then if she's not a bully, then what is she to you? You talk as if she's some sort of scab, and by that definition, she's certainly NOT a friend."

"That's not…" Wilma stopped to think for a bit, much like I did just a minute or two earlier. Wilma then said, "You know, Arthur, I don't really know what Cornelia is. I wish I did, though."

"Well, maybe if you could explain her a bit better to me, maybe I can help sort out the feeling about her, provided that you want me to hear about it." I said.

Wilma took a sip out of her cup of orange juice, looked down at the cereal bowl, and said, "I'm really not sure who Cornelia is, even though I've known her for the last few years." Wilma said. I noticed that she had become a bit depressed while she was saying this. "I never know what to expect from her outside of the ice skating rink. Sometimes she seems a bit sweet-hearted, but more often than not she's either overly aloof or overly blunt towards the world around her. Perhaps she gets those traits from her parents, both of which come from Europe."

"Which parts of Europe?"

"Her father is British and her mother is French."

"That's an odd combo, owing to the histories of the people speaking those languages. Eh, how is the relationship more directed towards you?"

"It's much like with everyone else, though I think that she seems particularly disappointed in me, likely because of my lack of athletic accomplishment. She's also very stubborn in the way that once she sets her mind to something, she won't change it, much like that stupid sweater issue."

"You mean the thing in that paper you wrote to me a few nights ago was in regards to Cornelia?"

"Yes. And the weird thing is that the sweater I borrowed from her was spotless when I returned it, and yet she crabbed and complained about a fruit punch stain that wasn't there! Believe me, I checked that sweater inside and out, and there wasn't anything on it!"

"I see. Maybe it got onto the sweater while it was in her place."

"It's possible, but I've been to her place before, and it's almost like a museum in there."

"You mean like there's a bunch of really old, valuable stuff at her home?"

"No, I meant that the place is virtually spotless. Her mother is a neat freak. So I doubt that Cornelia or anyone else in her household would've created the stain."

I took a break on the discussion to focus on my breakfast, as I didn't want the cereal to get soggy. With more of the cereal, milk, and juice in my stomach, I then said, "Well, regardless of how the stain got on there, couldn't you go off to someone to help you resolve this issue?"

"To who? I can't talk to my mother about these sorts of things; they're completely irrelevant to her. And even if they cared enough to stand on my behalf, my former friends wouldn't be of much help." Wilma responded.

"What did you do to get their ire?"

"I don't know. But for the past two weeks they all have been ignoring me, and for no good reason. Even Taranee was ignoring me, and she was my closest friend!"

_Ah! Maybe I can help answer her question in that E-Mail from yesterday_. I thought. I then said, "Who is Taranee?"

"Oh, she was the first person back at school that made me feel welcome, and we became very close friends afterwards, in spite of the fact that she's almost perfect." Wilma said.

"So, in other words, she's a snob."

"No, that's not what I meant. When I said perfect, what I am implying is that she's got it all: she's incredibly smart, she's athletic, she's hospitable, you name it, she's has it. About the only thing she doesn't have is the best eyesight in the world, so she wears glasses. But that's still a minor point owing to all she does have."

"I see. What was causing so many problems between you and her?"

"Like I said, I don't know. Recently, whenever I tried to talk to her about something, she said that she was busy and cut me off, and she never explained to me what it was she was doing. And she always told me what she was working on in the past."

"Hmm. Maybe it was something that she needed to do by herself."

"If that was the case, she'd say so. But she didn't. And it's not like she had a problem with me that she didn't tell me about; she's very forthright about what bugs her."

"I see. What about the other former friends?"

"Both of them were doing the same thing that Taranee was doing."

"So there are two others." I said. Of course, I knew beforehand of their identities, but I tried not to say anything more that would spill the beans. "Provided that they were still your friends, could they have been any help to you?"

"I don't know. It depends on who stood up for me."

"Well, perhaps if you tell me a little bit about them, if you want to do so, I might be able to give some insight on how they might approach the situation."

After looking down at her bowl of cereal for a few seconds, Wilma said, "Fine. My other ex-friends are named Irma and Hay Lin. I first met them at my high school's Halloween party the first year I was and I became friends with them a few days later. They also introduced me to Cornelia, and they also did the same for Taranee."

"Ah, there's something to work with. How do they do with Cornelia?"

"It depends on who you refer to. If you talking about Irma, it's really hard to tell: sometimes they get along fairly well, but other times they have a hard time seeing eye to eye."

"And why is that?"

"I think it's because they live in very different worlds. Irma couldn't care less about athletics, even though she can swim the backstroke faster than I can swim freestyle. She's very witty and at times can be considered the school comedian. And she's a bit impulsive about things, though she's very intuitive."

"Do you think that she would be any help with the sweater issue?"

"I don't think so. She would likely do something that would make things worse."

"And what about Hay Lin?"

"Well, Hay Lin would probably handle the situation a bit better, since she's closer friends with Cornelia than Irma is, even though she's closer to Irma than anyone else."

"Do you think that you could tell me a little more about Hay Lin?"

"Well, for starters, she's one of those overly perky, sorority type girls that one might think of as an airhead. But she's smarter than she appears once one gets to know her, and she's also super-artistic."

"In what ways?"

"Nearly all ways, though she prefers pencil sketching. She also is a big fan of science-fiction, and she makes much of her own clothing."

"Oh, there we go. Maybe all that's needed is for her to make a new sweater for Cornelia, and that it would solve the problem."

"I doubt it. I actually talked to Hay Lin about making a sweater for me a year or so ago, and she said it would likely take her several months to complete it. She also thought it would cost too much in terms of materials, so I wound up dropping the subject." After a short break in order to eat more of our breakfasts, Wilma said, "Of course, as they were both ignoring me these past two weeks, they wouldn't be of any help even if I had asked for it."

"How were they ignoring you?"

"Much in the same way as Taranee. But I also saw Irma talking to my former boyfriend a few days ago, and neither one of them was willing to allow me into their conversation."

Right there, I thought, _Former boyfriend? Susan said that she had one; what was his name again? Maybe I should implore a little deeper._ After eating a little more of my breakfast, I then said, "Hm. I see. Was this your former boyfriend's way of saying 'it is over'?"

"No." Wilma said.

"So you broke up with him earlier?"

"No."

"Then, how is this boy your former boyfriend?"

"I don't know. All I do know is he's stopped talking to me and ignoring me along with my other friends."

"Maybe he's just busy, like most people are around this time of year. Do you think you can tell me more about this former boyfriend?"

"I guess so." Wilma stated, though with significant hesitance. "His name is Matt Olson. I met him a few years ago during a birthday party, and we used to be very close. But recently, things have stagnated between the two of us, and I'm beginning to think that he might be seeing someone else."

"What makes you say this?"

"As I already said, he met with Irma a few days ago and wouldn't let me in on their conversation, and few days before then, he was milling around with two or three other girls after band practice."

"That's weird. I didn't think that most girls around your age would be attracted to band members. Just out of curiosity, what instrument does he play?"

"Guitar."

"Eh, that doesn't sound like any band I know of…"

"Matt isn't part of some marching or concert band. He's the lead guitarist and lead singer of a local band called Cobalt Blue…"

All of a sudden, I began to realize exactly what may have been the problem in terms of their relationship, and all I could do was snicker while trying to keep a straight face. In consequence, I missed hearing everything after the band's name. Wilma obviously noticed this and said, "What's so funny?"

"Oh, you should have told me earlier! No wonder your relationship with Matt has so many problems; both of your interests are completely incompatible!" I said, trying hard not to totally crack up.

"What are you talking about?"

"Just think about it, Wilma. Throughout the history of modern music, nearly all music acts, especially rock groups, attract groupies more efficiently than the strongest magnet can attract to metal. It's almost part of their job description to attract as many of the opposite gender as possible. And then there's your participation in swimming. All members of swim teams get lots of double takes from the opposite gender, both in the pool area and in the stands, during the practices and meets, especially when they come out of the pool all wet…"

This little description must have crossed a line for Wilma, for a split second after saying the word 'wet', she stood up from the table, leaned over, and shouted, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, YOU SICKO! ITHOUGHT YOU WERE MORE GROWN UP THAN THAT!"

"Oh please, Wilma." I said, trying to calm Wilma. "I'm just trying to explain what I know when I was growing up. They may not be pretty or appropriate, but it's worth saying as a heads-up."

Wilma did calm down somewhat, but she was still a bit mad at me. "Well, I don't know where you get that nonsense, but I've never noticed any boys staring at me, either during the practices or the meets." She said, looking away from me. "And as far as I know, you know nothing about either swimming or the music industry, so you shouldn't be saying those sorts of things."

"Really." I said, looking at her. That last comment kind of tinged me, as I knew much about music: it was my major muse during my adolescence. She looked back at me, and her face began to soften a bit; perhaps she thought that she had crossed a line. After she sat down, I then said, "Wilma, once we're both done with breakfast, I have something to show you."

"And that is…"

"I want to keep it a surprise for you, Wilma." I then went back to my cereal, and after a few bites, I then said, "Anyway, getting back to your problems with Matt, I don't necessarily think that he's dumped you. He's just probably busy with his things, much like with anyone else this time of year. And even if he did dump you, it's not a major disaster; most people, me included, go through more than one relationship throughout their lives. Besides, I bet there are plenty of boys about your age that wouldn't mind spending time with you." After a short break, I said, "Do you know of any other boys you are interested in?"

"The only other boy I have shown interest in is named Neil Weber." Wilma said.

"How do you know him?"

"He's part of the boy's swim team. He's a really nice guy and he's always supportive of me, even when I'm not having the best day. We don't see each other too much outside of the pool, though." There was another short break, she then said, "Maybe I should have spend more time with Neil before Irma starts taking an interest in him."

I kind of winched when I heard that; it reminded me too much of Tony's behaviors around Wilma's age. After recovering, I said, "I take it from that and your previous statements that Irma is a flirt, if that's the right word."

"It's a good descriptor of her. She seems to have a different boyfriend every month. I hope I don't wind up like her." Wilma responded.

"I doubt it."

From that point on, breakfast was a very quiet affair. We both finished our cereal and juice, and then we took to putting stuff away and cleaning the dishes. Once everything was done, I said to Wilma, "The thing I wish to show you is downstairs. Follow me."

"OK Arthur, but can I go to the bathroom first?" Wilma asked.

"Of course. I'll be in the basement." I replied. With that, we went our separate ways.

I went down into the basement area, and went into my office, where I retrieved a pair of keys for the nearby vault room. Once I had them in tow, I walked out of my office, closed the door, and sat down on the bench press bench. A few minutes later, Wilma was walking into the basement area. _Geez, I can't remember the last time I opened up my vault room_. I thought as I heard Wilma's footsteps. _Wait a minute. The last time I opened the door was to load up the vault! Oh well, as long as she doesn't blab about my past to the rest of Whitesage, or anywhere for that matter, I'll be fine_. My thoughts ended when I saw Wilma come fully into my view; she had changed into a daytime ensemble, which looked much like the previous outfits. "All right, Arthur. What are you going to show me?" she asked.

"It's behind the door with all of the locks behind it." I said, pointing to the door. "But before I open the door and show you inside, you must promise me that you won't tell ANYONE about this. Not anyone here, not anyone back at home, not anyone in Canada."

Wilma got a little concerned when I said that, and kind of made a face before saying, "Is it something illegal?"

"No, but it's something that I don't want other people to know about, because it's shameful. In fact, you are the first person, besides myself, to see inside the vault room. So you have to promise not to let others know about this for my own sake. Do you understand?"

"OK Arthur. I promise that I won't tell anyone."

"Good. I'm going to undo the locks now." I then got up off of the bench and walked over to the vault room door. I first undid the padlock, and then turned my attention to the doorknob lock. Apprehensively, I opened the door. But as I entered the vault room, I immediately thought, _Why I am doing this? All it's going to do is make me miserable again. It's making me miserable right now!_ I quickly felt resentful towards myself and depressed.

Inside the vault room contained all of the little things I had tried to bury out of sight and out of mind, which was a lot of stuff. But the primary things placed inside this now dusty tomb were mementos of my days being the lead singer of a local rock group known as Thundersnow. Wilma at first didn't seem too impressed by the large stacks of unwanted mementos, but then she spied one of my old group's promotion posters. "Hey Arthur, this guy on this poster looks a lot like you." She said, picking up a poster from the stack.

I took the poster from her and wiped the dust off. After examining it a bit, I then said, "That's because it IS me, Wilma."

"That's you?"

"Yes, right around your age, Wilma. At the time, I was the lead singer of a local rock group named Thundersnow…"

"Hold on, Arthur. There's something I can't see very easily here." Wilma said. She had picked up another one of those posters and was trying to examine it. She then said, "This is a promotional poster for the Amateur Canadian Popular Music Contest. That's something that Matt has always been talking about ever since I met him. You and your group participated in that?"

"Yes, we did. Though looking back, we shouldn't have competed."

"Oh, you didn't do very well, did… hey, what's that over there?" Wilma then walked over to a pile of boxes and began moving them off to the side. I knew exactly what she was going for, and I couldn't bear to look at it. She then exclaimed, "Oh… my… your group won the contest! This is the…"

"Trophy for the musical act who wins top prize, yes I know that." I said, not feeling all that great for finishing her sentence.

"You don't seem overly happy about it Arthur."

"No, I'm not."

"But why?"

"Because it did two things: first, it ruined one of the other competitors. Second, it ruined Thundersnow."

"How? You get a contract opportunity for winning that contest, and…"

"Wilma, I really should explain why I say things got ruined." I said.

"OK, I'm listening." Wilma said.

"The formation of Thundersnow began around the time I was your age. At the time, I was looking for a diversion to deal with my own adolescent problems…" I said.

"What kind of problems?" Wilma asked, interrupting.

"Eh, that's a discussion I'd rather not into depth with, but I will say that I was having the same sort of problems you were having." I answered. Wilma realized that this was something deeply sensitive to me, as I saw a bit of shame on her face.

"Anyway, I was a good singer, having sung along with a number of the day's rock groups over the radio, and having a number of school plays experience. During my junior year, I came across a few students who were also inspiring rock musicians. After we got the chance to know each other and conduct a few informal practices, we decided to officially form a band, which we called Thundersnow.

For a while, we were just content being street musicians and playing a few gigs at area theaters and the like. But we entered our senior year, I made the fateful decision to enter into the ACPMC, once I got the vote of confidence from my band-mates and got enough money to enter the contest."

"So, what was it like being a part of the contest?"

"It's divided into three distinct levels. First, we had to go through a regional tryout, much like in Stupidian Musicana, but without the TV cameras and the infamous judges. If you get the vote of confidence, you then move on the provincial level, where you have to perform in front of an actual audience, and that they provide a vote in addition to the judges. The winners of the provincial rounds go onto the national level area, where it's much like the provincial level but on a bigger scale."

"I see. And Thundersnow won the title. What does the winner get?"

"$100,000 and the chance to be the opening act of the Canada Music Festival Tour at each of their stops. Second, third, fourth, and fifth place receive 75,000, 50,000, 25,000, and 10,000, respectively."

"Wow. No wonder Matt wants to participate in the ACPMC. I would want to partake in the contest, provided that I had any musical talent."

"That's what I initially thought when I got involved in the contest. But it didn't take long before the euphoria was sucked out of my soul."

"How?"

"It happened the day after our victory. The whole band had left the hotel where we had been staying at, and we were having breakfast at a local fast-food joint, when we heard sirens, both police and ambulance. We then saw both types driving into the hotel parking lot. After we finished our breakfasts, we walked back to the hotel to see what was going on. What we found was horrific: one of our competitors in the ACPMC had committed suicide over the evening."

Wilma was in shock when she heard that, as evidence when her jaw dropped and eyes got real big. "Are you serious?" she said, exasperated.

"I am, Wilma." I said.

"How did he die?"

"Well, he first consumed all of the toiletries in his hotel bathroom, hoping it would poison him. From the police records, it didn't work, so he then stole a fire extinguisher from the hallway, disengaged the safety, inserted the nozzle into his mouth, and pulled the trigger. He quickly died from multiple causes."

"Oh, that's… terrible."

"It was. But the worst thing was about the suicide note he left behind, specifically for us. He actually left two; the first one was a request to donate his earnings to a music supplies charity. Ours was a bit different. In our note, he said, 'Promise me that your group will be successful; only then will my life have meant something'. Though it was a bit of a mystery on why he wrote this at first, we would later learn that his life was a giant mess."

"How so?"

"In short, he had lived a life of destitution: his parents had died early on in his childhood, and had spent the remainder of his childhood in an orphanage. His adolescence was spent between two foster families, neither of which had much money to support him or a higher education. His only outlet for success was music, which he was very good at, and he needed the large award money prize in order to pursue a college degree. Unfortunately, he didn't score well enough to make the top three places. And with little prospect of getting a scholarship, he felt it would be better to die than to live what he saw as a pathetic life."

Wilma started looking a bit sick after hearing that. I didn't blame her for feeling that way, as I felt terribly sick right now for explaining the incident. But I also noticed that Wilma face, beyond the sickness, was hard to read. Maybe she was realizing what I had told her back at the swimming pool last night; if so, then in an odd way I was doing her a huge favor.

After what seemed like a long time, Wilma looked up and said, "Does the death of this artist have anything to do why Thundersnow is no longer active?"

"In a way, it did." I said. "It kind of sucked the fun out of music for me. Every time I tried to sing, it reminded me of that suicide note, and it made me feel very bad that his life ended because of such a setback. It wasn't like he didn't have a shot at musical success beyond that point; music executives attend these performances and sometimes they sign up some of the lower ranking performers to contracts. Not big ones, obviously, but it is still work. I never fully recovered from it, and it was always on my mind. My band-mates certainly didn't help the situation: they began to act like the famous musical acts you probably have heard of. Mainly this was quaffing down obscene amounts of beer on a daily basis, but they also 'connected' with groupies after performances. All of this was quite stupid to my mind, since we weren't a big act yet, but it also embittered me towards the music industry, as I doubt that dude who had killed himself had wanted it this way."

"Did you try to talk some sense into them?"

"I did, but they were often so drunk that they barely even noticed. Eventually, about a month before the big concert tour, I decided enough was enough, and I quit the band. I would concentrate on my accounting and marketing degrees and never looked back."

"Well, I don't blame you for feeling like that." Wilma said. "But you shouldn't let one bad experience get the better of you. If that was the case, I wouldn't request to go the pool last night. Besides, most people are willing to forgive mistakes. I bet if you talk to them, they would probably be a more repentant."

"That's part of the problem, Wilma. They aren't alive anymore." I blankly told Wilma.

"They're all dead?"

"Yes. Well, almost all of them."

"But how?"

"Well, back in the day, the concert series for the winner of the ACPMC took place in mid-winter. And the winter for that year was harder than it normally was. There were a lot of technical and logistical problems that occurred during the trip, and it looked as if Thundersnow was suffering from more of their fair share than some of the other, more famous acts."

"Like what?"

"Just the general stuff, Wilma. Vehicle maintenance was a big issue, as they had rented out one of those moving vans to get about. And at least from what I had been told, it was in need of repair. But they also made a lot of stupid, easily avoidable mistakes, like reading the maps wrong at one point. And it was a combination of both that led to the demise of my former band-mates."

"What happened?"

"Well, to begin, the group was running behind on its schedule due to road conditions in the Ontario area. There had been a brief but aggressive blizzard that passed through the area, and there had been some significant traffic problems getting out of Brandon. Their next gig was to take place in Regina, but it would be a long, hard drive that would take days with the van, and they didn't have time to lose. So they decided to gun it on a marathon drive, going both during the day and night without pause, with the exception to get more fuel.

Unfortunately, they had heard over the radio that there were traffic problems on the direct route to Regina, so they decided to take a rural detour in hopes of getting back onto the main thoroughfare. This was not a smart thing to do in the middle of the winter, and especially at night. And by all accounts, it would have been safer, and saner, to cancel or postpone the gig. But the group was adamant to reaching their next gig on time.

At first, things seemed to be going well for my band-mates. But then they got some bad news in terms of the weather: there was another front coming, but this time the precipitation was a sleet and snow mix. It's hard what anyone would have done in this situation, as one would either choose driving through the conditions and perhaps crashing or waiting it out and perhaps starving."

"Neither of those options sounds very good to me."

"Yeah. My band-mates wound up choosing the former. It was the last mistake they would ever make, as they wound up first crashing into an oncoming truck, then spinning out, and then blasting through the guardrails where the rolled over into a shallow ditch. It was made the more painful with the fact that the front wasn't terribly powerful. Had they waited it out they probably could've continued the rest of the way with no problems.

Anyway, the driver of the other vehicle was unhurt and did call for medical assistance, but it took an hour before medical personnel arrived and took them back to Brandon. The driver of the van, who also happened to be my replacement for Thundersnow, got out with only a broken right leg, a broken left arm, and some minor cuts. But the rest of the group was not so fortunate: the injuries were far more severe. One of them was declared dead on the scene, and the other two would die the next day."

"Oh…my…" Wilma said, utterly shocked and saddened by the story. "That's… awful!"

"That was only the half of it, Wilma. In the coming days, I was hounded by the local media regarding the death of my band-mates. It was a horrible time of torment for me, trying to answer questions I didn't want to deal with. But more so than that, it left me overwhelmed by both shame and bitterness for the competition and everything that had happened to me over the past few years. It didn't help that I inherited the trophy and the remaining paraphernalia of our successes; believe me, I tried a number of times to refuse it, but the persistence of everyone was impossible to refute. I wound up storing this stuff in a storage facility and turned my back towards music, concentrating my time and energy on accounting and marketing. After I had completed my degrees, I then moved here, though I had no choice but to collect this garbage and take it with me. And with no storage companies in either Codton or Gunnersville to dump this stuff in, I've had to store it here.

So, now you know why I told you NOT to blabber this out to the world. I don't want to be a source of pity again, nor do I wish to be reminded of this part of my past."

"Oh, I won't Arthur." Wilma said, looking quite upset at the whole thing. "I… I didn't know you had such a problem. Now I understand your reasoning at the pool last night."

"Yeah. But try not to get all caught up in my issues, Wilma. I can deal with them. You still need to deal with your own, OK?"

Wilma nodded, as if she understood. With that we left the storage room, where I shut the door and locked it. I didn't make any attempts to glance back at that part of my past as we went upstairs.

The rest of the morning was very quiet and uneventful as we began to get ready for the day. Both of us got cleaned up and properly dressed, and then we were off with Sven in tow. It was a bit chilly that morning, which was unsurprising owing to the fact that it was the first week of October. Even so, neither I nor Wilma was totally unprepared for it since the past few days had been a bit warmer than usual.

Eventually, we both arrived at the Howl House. "Well Wilma, enjoy yourself, and I'll see you this evening." I said.

"I will, Arthur." Wilma responded. And with that, she and Sven went through the doors of the Howl House, whereas I went on my way to The Mystic's Emporium.

The day went by without anything serious happening. There were more shoppers than the past two days, but nothing that Michael and the others, me included, couldn't handle. The talk during the breaks were mostly about the upcoming Samhain festivities, though there was a little talk regarding outsider news, or all of the stuff going on in the rest of Canada, which there was very little to discuss.

Eventually, my day came to an end, and it was time to return home. First of course, I had to stop by Connections to get the last part of the homework for Wilma. Granted, the last two parts had yet to be completed, but at the very least, I had to get them out and printed for the sake of Mrs. Rickenbacker. But I was very surprised to see that I had a number of other E-Mails, all of which came from Wilma's friends. Noting this, I went to Mrs. Rickenbacker's E-Mail and printed out the attachments. After making the payment, I was off to the Howl House to check how things went. Rebecca was still at the desk, and she looked a bit tired. "Hi Rebecca." I said as I entered the door.

"Oh hi Arthur." Rebecca responded, sounding every bit as tired as she looked. "If you are looking for Wilma, she said she was going back to your place once her work was done."

"I see. How did it go?"

"It went very well, though I noticed something odd with Wilma when she was working with the dogs."

"How so?"

"Well, I don't get it, but for some reason the dogs seemed to get along with her really well, including Sharpie, which is really strange."

"Sharpie… You mean that Rottweiler you comment on at least once a week?"

"Yeah, that's the one. He's always really stubborn and hard to work with, and for some reason, he really warmed up to Wilma. He was obedient, he never growled at anyone… it was as if he was an entirely different dog."

"That IS weird. Knowing the number of times he's growled at me whenever I've run across him, that's something I wouldn't expect to hear in my lifetime."

"Neither would I. And also, all of the other dogs here would yap and try to get Wilma's attention whenever they saw her. It was as if he was carrying along a huge bag of dog cookies, but she never did."

"Well, I don't know what to say, Rebecca. I mean, Sven has acted a bit different since Wilma has come to Whitesage, but I have no theories as to why. I usually don't have time think about it much though, owing the nature of my work."

"I bet so." Rebecca said, and she went over to the cash register. I quickly went into my wallet to fish out the money that was needed, and I then presented to her. She quickly swiped the money from me and said, "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

I was about to do the same, but then I thought that it would be worth it to ask her about any advice on how to better guide Wilma. So I said, "Eh, not so fast. I'd actually like to ask you of something before I go."

"What about?" Rebecca replied.

"Well, I was wondering, how was it during your adolescence?"

"You mean my teenage years? Oh geez, I haven't thought about them in a while. Of course, when one gets to our age, that seems like a distant memory most would like to forget, especially if it was bad."

I didn't like how she said the last part, owing to the fact that it rang the truth for me. I then said, "Well, what were some of the things you had to deal with? And I mean outside of the school work."

"I think there were too many things to list. I mean, it was all about appearances, fitting in, whomever you had a crush on and the implications, trying to bend your parents to get at least a little bit of what you wanted from them, club pressures and the responsibilities that came with them. It was just a huge mess, and that's even before the widespread use of cell phones and the Internet got into the picture. I don't see how the teenage girls of today just don't spontaneously combust the moment they become teenagers, knowing how rough it is with this expanded frontier."

"Then another question is how did you survive it all?"

"It wasn't easy, that's for sure. I mean, I guess I had some friends that, for the most part, were willing to help me out whenever things were going sour. And of course I had my family to fall back on. But why do you ask?"

"I guess it's because Wilma has been feeling a bit down recently about stuff back at home, and I wish to help her out a little. I just wanted to know if there was any advice on how I could do that."

"I wish I could, but all of my youngsters are dogs. So, I can't really give you too much advice on that front. The best I can do is just to be patient and listen well."

"OK. I guess then I'll be on my way. Thanks again for looking after Sven, and I'll see you tomorrow."

Rebecca nodded her head, and I then was off for home.

A few minutes later, I arrived back at home. The lights in the main room were on, and I could see Wilma on the couch, perhaps snoozing away. When I did enter the house, she certainly was, with Sven sleeping on her lap no less. I called out, "Wilma, Sven. I'm home." Both woke up immediately when I called them, though quite slowly. Wilma looked over to me and said, "Uhhh… What time is it?"

"Around 7:00 PM. I bet the two of you are hungry. I was thinking about some barley minestrone soup for supper. How does that sound?"

"Sounds fine to me, Arthur. I'm starving. And don't worry about Sven; I already fed him and took care of his business."

"Oh. Well, thanks. If you want to, you can get the table set." I then turned over to the cabinets and pulled out a couple of cans of the barley minestrone soup, which was one of my favorite soups, and certainly one of the most popular in Whitesage. With the soup in tow, I got out a pot and then open up the soup into it. As I did so, I heard Wilma rummaging through the cabinets to pull out some bowls, spoons, and cups. Looking back at her, she didn't seem overly sad or depressed, but I could see that she was still conflicted on the inside.

Not wanting her to stew over whatever was going on in her head, I asked her, "How did the job shadow go?"

Wilma answered, "Oh, it went well. Certainly better than the last gig, that's for sure. I always like working with animals."

"That's good to hear. I take it there weren't too many problems for you to deal with."

"No. But I did notice something rather disconcerting."

"You mean the way the dogs acting around you?"

"Well, that too, but it was the discussions Rebecca and the other workers were having during that time. They were all talking about elections and what it could all mean if the 'southern empire' continues on its current course. It… it just made me feel uneasy."

"Why? It shouldn't bother you; you aren't a citizen here, so you can't vote for the Whitesage Consortium elections. Oh, unless you were referring to a discussion about Stupidia. But that's something completely different."

Wilma stopped for a second, perhaps to try and think things over. As I looked at her, I thought, _I sure hope she's not pining over something that doesn't involve her. She already has too much on her plate._ She looked up and said, "You know Arthur, I don't know what they were referring to. Maybe it was both."

"Probably was, knowing the current cycle of 'elections' in Stupidia." I responded. We then got back to our business of getting the table set and cooking up the soup. It didn't take long for either to get done. Soon enough, I brought out a medium-hot pot of soup to the table, and I began to serve it into the bowls. The soup tasted as good as it ever had, and I was quite pleased to see that Wilma was enjoying the soup, at least from first impressions.

As we continued to consume our soup, Wilma then asked, "Arthur, I'm a bit curious about something."

I looked up at her and said, "What is it?"

"I'm wondering about the Whitesage political system. I mean, with the way the conversations back at the Howl House, they were talking in such a way that discussed the election of judges. Now, as far as I know, I don't think judges are elected. They are appointed, right?"

"Not in Whitesage. They are elected."

"Well, if that's the case, then what is the structure of the Whitesage government? Was it that Consortium you were talking about the same thing?"

"Yes Wilma. And I guess I can explain it to you, if you are willing to listen."

Wilma nodded her head, and with that, I started.

"When Whitesage was first formed, many of the hippies wanted to create a government that was free of corrupting influences, or at least having them severely limited." I said. "They obviously hated the Stupidian model of democracy, which was clearly nothing more than a dictatorship on how it was set up. But they didn't necessarily want the British Commonwealth model either, mainly because they saw it as too similar to the Stupidian model, but also because there were functions that didn't make sense to the times. So when it was determined that Whitesage would go from a hippie commune to a semi-autonomous entity, a number of people proposed a different form of democracy. It was said that, in less than a week, they came up with what is referred to as the Whitesage Consortium, or as it can also be called, the Whitesage elected oligarchy."

"Oligarchy?" Wilma asked, seeming a bit confused. "What's that?"

"It's essentially a small group of people that share in the running of something, much like a board of trustees at a college or bank. After going through a number of ideas, it was determined that was the safest model to work with."

"So how is this oligarchy set up?"

"Originally, there were just nine individuals, split three ways between the executive, legislative, and judicial branches. But that number expanded to fifteen in the 1980s, twenty-one in the 1990s, and twenty-seven in this decade; everyone has been told back in 2000 that this will be the last expansion of the Consortium. Members of the oligarchy would be allowed to serve only one three-year term at any one branch, and in normal circumstances, an election would be held every year involving one of the three branches. The system is in constant flux, and thusly it prevents corruption."

"I see. And does it work?"

"Compared to Stupidia and many other countries, we have one of the lowest levels of corruption in the world."

"But what happens when circumstances aren't normal?"

"That only happens when the citizenry of Whitesage are dissatisfied with the Consortium. Therefore, every spring a pre-vote is taken to determine whether the whole Consortium should be put up for a vote, or just the predetermined branch. In those cases, the incumbents campaign to hold their seats, whereas the branch in the official election determines who takes those seats as per normal."

"There are actually TWO votes every year?"

"Yes."

"But, don't people get tired of always having to be involved with politics by voting every six months?"

"To outsiders like you Wilma, it does seem that way. But the truth is that most are quite happy with it, and it helps keep corruption down; the politicians are less likely to do moronic things when they are constantly worrying about their job security."

Wilma just slumped down in the chair, apparently deep in thought on what I had told her. This surprised me, since I didn't think she would think too much about politics. But then again, I didn't know her that well.

We continued eating our soup for a minute or two, and then Wilma asked, "Is there anything else about the government of Whitesage you mind telling me about?"

"The only other thing worth noting about the Whitesage government is the Chieftain. Elected much the same way that the Pope of the Catholic Church is elected, he is the essential figurehead of the Whitesage government, except that he has very little power." I replied.

"How so?"

"He is mainly in charge of filling out the various agencies of the Whitesage government. But he also acts as our political voice, one who helps guide our decisions and suggests policies that the Consortium can consider. And by the charter, it has to be a Native North American."

"But beyond that fact, he is like the Governor-General of the Canadian government."

"In a way, yes. But unlike the Canadian Governor-General, they have a bit more influence on how things are run. They aren't some glorified position holder for the sovereign. That's why whenever eras of Whitesage are talked about, they revolve around the Chieftains and their times in power."

"How many Chieftains have been in charge of Whitesage?"

"Four, including the current one."

"It is OK if you could tell me about them, and the times they were in charge in? Just out of interest."

"I guess I can try. I'm not as well skilled about telling this as some of the old-timers, mainly since I've been around here for the past five years. But I'll tell you about what I do know, and if you can find someone who can do it better, then I apologize for my failure." With that, I cleared my throat, and I began.

"The first era was the one dominated by Robert Red Sage, one of the founders of Whitesage. Of course, you already knew this from a few days back, but it's worth repeating." I said. "All of the old-timers will be quick to tell you that, from Whitesage's official inception to Robert's death on 3/2/1980, it was essentially our golden age. The reason for me saying this was because there wasn't much in the ways of troubles besieging the village-state. It was a time where people were about as free as one could get, and where the ideals put forth by our brethren was completely realized."

"I'd hate to ask, but what do you mean by that?" Wilma reluctantly asked.

"Well, think about everything that hippies represent, as well as their fondest dreams. According to the old-timers, it happened here." I answered.

That, perhaps understandably, made Wilma cringe a bit. I guess I should've expected that. After she had gotten herself together, she said, "That seems totally absurd. No society can be like… that… and have everything go perfectly."

"Well, you do have a point. There were some dark aspects to Whitesage, much of which was attributed to excessive drug use. It's nowhere near as bad today as it once was: very few people in Whitesage use drugs. Those that do are mostly the old-timers, and it's almost always done away from the public eye."

"Was there anything else worth noting about the Robert Red Sage era?"

"The only notable thing that occurred during his time as Chieftain was the 1977 nudity ruling, in where the government was given its first unsatisfactory vote."

Wilma looked rather bemused when she heard the phrase 'nudity ruling', and rightfully so. She then slowly said, "Nudity ruling?"

"Yes Wilma. Nudity ruling." After a short and rather awkward silence, I then said, "I think it would be in my best interest to tell you it, so as not to give you any bad misconceptions."

"Well… Eh… I guess so." Wilma muttered, perhaps embarrassed about the implications and the imagery.

"OK, now as you might expect, Whitesage was a very liberal place at the time. Granted, it has always been that way, but back then there were some things that people today would find ludicrous. One of those things was public nudity: back during the 1970s up until 1978, it was perfectly legal for people of all ages to be naked in public. This was obviously done only during warm times, but it was hard not to run into someone naked during those times of the year."

Wilma grew increasingly bemused as I told her the story. Seeing this, I told her, "That was just the cultural mores back then, Wilma. And it's not like I'm going to put you into a time machine and send you back to those days."

Wilma then started to relax a bit, but the shock value of the story was still impacting her. She eventually mustered the energy to say, "Then, what's this 'nudity ruling' all about?"

"Much like a lot of things in 1977, things began to change, and in many parts of Canada where the counterculture was dominant, public nudity was beginning to lose a lot of its luster. I can give out some reasons, but I'm pretty sure you can figure them out. In the middle of 1977, Whitesage officials decided to follow in these footsteps, and thus proposed a bill that would end public nudity. But for a community who was so adamantly counterculture, it did not go over very well. The bill was eventually crushed, and by the spring of 1978, a dissatisfactory vote was given for the Consortium. Most of the people were replaced as a result. But the most interesting thing about the whole ordeal was that after the ruling, public nudity began to die out, and pretty rapidly. By 1980, very few people were walking around in public naked during the warm times. So when a similar bill was put up for voting in 1982, most people didn't complain, and it passed. These days, the only place people can be naked is on the semi-private property locales, like people's houses and the RCA Centers, and you have to specify your business for doing so. But nudity in any sense of the word is so rarely practiced here that I can't think up of any times where I have heard of such happenings."

I couldn't fully read Wilma's face, but I think that she was secretly relieved that public nudity was no longer allowed. I had roughly the same feelings as she simply because the subject matter was unseemly by nearly everyone's standards. But it had to be told, since she requested the info.

We then headed back to our soup, which was starting to get a little cold. Noting this, I told Wilma, "I'm going to heat up the soup again, if you don't mind." She didn't have any real response, so I simply placed the pot onto the burner and put it on low. I then sat back down to my chair and asked Wilma, "Shall I continue?"

"Sure." she replied.

"Alright. Before he died, he appointed a fellow Sarcee, named Blue Moose, as his successor. Everyone simply called him Barry when he took over, though he never referred to himself by that name. These days, everyone kind of refers to him as Weak Moose."

"Why is that?"

"Because a good portion of his time in power was considered quite soft, and he did some things that many in Whitesage, especially the old-timers, thought were imprudent."

"What would be considered weak and stupid by people in Whitesage?"

"Well, for one thing, he was not the type to denounce Stupidian actions and policies, especially since many of them were polar opposites of what ours were. You have to remember that this was in the 1980s, and back then there was a lot of concern regarding conservatism seeping into every crevasse it could find. And while it didn't take hold as well in Canada has it had in other places, people here were quite adamant to resist it in all of its forms. Another thing was that he was more interested in cultural plurality than trying to preserve what was here. And some of his ideas went over the populace like stale bread."

"Like what?"

"One example was trying to re-create a music festival that doubled as a technology fair, which has been enormously successful down in Stupidia. Of course, he also wanted to add a multicultural element to 'strengthen the soul' of Whitesage. However, the public was turned off by the idea, mainly about the technological part, though there were concerns about exposure to heretical ideas. Ultimately, Blue Moose dropped the idea, and such an idea was never brought up again."

"People hated the idea of a technology and cultural fair? That seems a bit dumb."

"In many ways, it was. But then again, people were leery about using more electricity than they needed, and with a lack of renewable energy sources around, no one liked the idea of using energy sources that were dangerous to the environment. It still is like this today, though to a lesser extent by each generation that follows the last. And once again, fears about Stupidian influences from the cultural side had to play a factor."

"I see. I still think it's a bit dumb. What else happened that made Blue Moose rather… weak?"

"Another thing that happened was the Malcolm Jobson issue."

"You're talking about the famous performer, right? What could've caused such uproar about him?"

"It was due to his music sales. You see, back then, Whitesage was more mercantilistic than it was today…"

"Mercantilistic? What's that?"

"It's derived from mercantilism. It's an economic model where the government strictly controls the economy, determining what is grown for crops, who has a monopoly on what industries if any, and so on. Often, the government will ban foreign imports, to prevent getting sucked into global competition and/or being corrupted by it. Whitesage up to the mid 1980s would ban anything that had its origins from Stupidia. But in 1983 and especially in 1984, more and more people were bringing in records and CDs of Malcolm Jobson's Thrasher album. Authorities tried to collect and destroy any copies of Thrasher that they could, but it was an exceedingly difficult task, as it was rumored that for every record or CD of Thrasher that was found and broken, nearly five times as many were getting in via all sorts of ways."

"Geez. All of this in regards to one of the best, if not THE best music album, of all time? That's even dumber than the music festival idea!"

"I agree. And in 1985, it was decided, albeit by a minority, to allow sales of Malcolm Jobson records and CDs. A lot of old-timers hated the vote turnout, and a dissatisfactory vote was cast not long thereafter. All of those who had voted in favor of the permission were voted out, but the ruling held in a subsequent vote. This would be the beginning of when we call the Dissatisfaction Period, where it seemed as if everyone was dissatisfied with something, and thus took it out on the Consortium. And one of the biggest reasons for that was the idea of religious expansion, which started in 1987."

"What was that?"

"It was an incredibly controversial idea that, in Blue Moose's words, would guarantee proper facilities for all religions that would settle in here. Instead, it caused a lot of chaos and made Blue Moose look like an idiot and a traitor."

"A traitor?"

"Yes, Wilma. A traitor. You see, back then Neo-Pagans were extremely protective of their religious status, and thus were very worried about other religions messing up their influences on the community. So when they heard of this, they immediately freaked out and went onto an offensive, both literal and political, to prevent other faiths from taking up shop."

"Literal? You mean by terrorism?"

"One could say that, though it was more by vandalism than it was terrorism. It was pretty bad, at least from what I was told. Anyone who wasn't a Neo-Pagan or from the Vedic faiths were instantly considered suspects, and in a way, something like the Salem Witch Trials in reverse took place, though no one was killed or tortured. Eventually, though, the attention moved from all foreign faiths to the Abrahamic faiths, as they were considered the more dangerous threat, and during the early 1990s, it was hard to go a week without something happening to buildings being set up for those faiths."

"Wow. I didn't think that something like this would happen in a former hippie commune. What did Blue Moose think about this, and what was done?"

"He did nothing more than trying to appeal to the people to stop their actions, claiming it was blasphemous to act in such a fashion. That message slowly worked for the non-Abrahamic faiths, but it did nothing for the Abrahamic faiths. Perhaps it was the only option he had available, since opinions on the projects were very low, and it would be extremely difficult to deploy security forces to protect the areas and the workers. But whatever the choices Blue Moose had, the happenings going about him were taking a serious toll on his health. Finally, in 1992, he announced that he would resign, and would be handing over the chieftain position to his nephew, Broken Creek. After he resigned, he returned to the Sarcee reservation to spend the rest of his life in quiet contemplation."

"So how did things go with Broken Creek?"

"Not as well as many had hoped. Things continued to be very chaotic, despite the excessive measures to keep the peace."

Apprehensive, Wilma asked, "Excessive? Eh… I hate to ask, but what were these… excessive… measures?"

"Well, first and foremost, Broken Creek officially outlawed the Abrahamic faiths from existing and thus put an end to the construction projects for their houses of worship."

"He OUTLAWED the religions?"

"Yes. But that was just the tip of the iceberg. He also re-instituted the ban on Malcolm Jobson records and CDs, and in 1995, unhappy with the Consortium's ineffectiveness, dissolved it and for nearly two years, the place lived under a sort of dictatorship, though he did allow for public votes regarding most of his policies."

Wilma was quite sickened by hearing this. I guess it was to be suspected, but I knew the worst was yet to come. "It wasn't all bad, however." I told Wilma, trying to alleviate any internal concerns. "He did help expand key businesses, namely the fuel production plant, and was far more forceful about criticisms towards Stupidia than his predecessors ever were. Those things helped him out tremendously, and thus kept in power until 1996."

"What happened there?"

"Well, it mainly had to deal with the Sikh furniture feud. In short, there was a sharp division in Sikhism in regards to furniture; Jaspal can explain it in better detail. But in general, there was a lot of violence within the faith, and in 1996 it began to worm its way into Whitesage. Broken Creek was definitely not happy about this, and after a while he tried a number of ways to quell the violence, all of which were ineffective."

"Like what?"

"Mostly, it was to increase the tax rates of the Sikhs and establishing a curfew. But it didn't do too much to shut down the violence. Eventually, he decided to try and outlaw Sikhism outright. That was a horrible disaster on his part, as it was universally despised, and it started a massive revolt against his rule."

"A revolt? What happened?"

"People surrounded his offices and tried to set it on fire, among a lot of other things that I won't get into. It actually got so bad that the Canadian government had to intervene to prevent things from totally going out of control. As for Broken Creek, he wound up committing suicide."

"Uhh… I… is it just me, or does everyone… eh… Are you telling the truth?"

"Yes, Wilma. He really did kill himself; it was in all of the newspapers and newsletters in Canada."

Realizing I had touched a nerve, I said, "I'm sorry for bringing that up Wilma. But I have to tell the truth, and I can't sugarcoat things like this." I didn't know if that helped or not, so I just continued on. "After the Canadian government intervened, it began what has been popularly called the Week of Anxiety. During this time, the Canadian government, along with former members of the Consortium, began to reorganize the government. Most of the processes were re-established, but we were forced to allow religions to set up shop here as a basic human right. And furthermore, they gave the chieftain position to a Mohawk native named David Waychka. He's been the chieftain of this place ever since."

"What do people think of him?" Wilma asked.

"Initially, everyone hated him. There were many reasons for this, but the biggest reason was because he was not selected by us or was named a successor. He also seemed to be a giant wiener, mostly out of touch with the public's opinions and our general mores. And he was reluctant to criticize Stupidia on anything." I explained. "But these days, he's better liked, thanks to the fact that he's learned to be more like us and enjoys smacking around Stupidia on annual addresses."

"I see. Eh, what about the soup, Arthur?" Wilma then asked, eyeing the pot on the stove top.

I half-panicked, saying, "Oh, thanks for reminding me, Wilma! I completely forget about it!" I then rushed over to the stove, and to my relief, the soup had warmed up, but wasn't boiling. Satisfied that it was done, I brought the pot back over to the table and we finished up the soup without saying much else."

After supper we got to cleaning up the dishes, which didn't take all that long, and then Wilma decided to take Sven out to walk about. Naturally, I decided to go with her. It wasn't terribly eventful, until I ran into Orin. "Hey Arthur." He said, trying to flag me down. "How are things in your part of town?"

"Eh, not bad. It's been the same old routine, mostly."

"Oh, because of the Samhain festival coming up."

"Yes. It's always preparation for one festival at the Mystic's Emporium."

"I guess…" He then spotted Wilma and said, "Hmm, I don't think I've seen you before. You new to this place?"

Wilma, looking a bit annoyed by all of this, blankly said, "Yes." To alleviate any possible conflict, I quickly jumped into the possible conversation by saying, "Eh, this is Wilma, a student from outside of Whitesage. She's doing a series of job shadows around the place…"

"Oh, that sort of thing! Hey, if you want to, you can bum around the fuel facility tomorrow and see how we make fuel. Interested?"

Wilma glared at me, as if I had completely lost it. In response, I said, "You don't have to accept it if you aren't interested. It's you call." Perhaps realizing how deep she was in with her situation, she said, "OK, I'll come along with you."

"Well, let me talk to my boss; he'll give me the final say." Orin said. "If he accepts, I will pick you up at the hotel around…

"Actually I am staying with Arthur." Wilma said.

A bit surprised to hear this, Orin said, "Oh, I see. Then I'll pick you up at Arthur's place around 8:00 next morning."

"OK then."

"Right. Listen, I was heading out to the Co-op to get some more food for the family. Do you need me to pick anything up for you Arthur?"

"No, I'll pick anything I need tomorrow." I said to Orin. "Thanks for thinking of me, though."

"No problem. See you around." And with that, we went our ways. As we walked on, I said to Wilma, "I didn't mean to get something set up like this…"

"Oh, don't worry about it, Arthur." Wilma responded. "I know I'm in a no-win situation, and I don't want to be bored to tears, like I was during Saturday afternoon. At least you didn't go about with that niece nonsense."

Nothing else was said for the remainder of the walk.

Once we got back into my house, Wilma let Sven off of his leash and then she slumped onto the couch, a bit tired. I went into the bathroom to wash my hands, not sure of what I was to do next. I figured that the best thing for me to do was check on my E-Mails, but as I was heading downstairs, Wilma said, "Arthur, can I ask you something?"

"Sure." I said.

"Well, it's been something in regards to some of the comments you made when you described the history of Whitesage and how the chieftains were expected to criticize Stupidia every chance they got. I hope I don't sound foolish, but has Whitesage always been so… anti-Stupidian?"

"Of course it has been!" I said, approaching her. "In fact, it was written up in the town's charter that one of the purposes of Whitesage was to oppose Stupidia and all it represents. Though back then, it was known as the Southern Empire; Stupidia came a few years later."

Wilma didn't appear too surprised hearing that. She then said, "I guess that was obvious. But it just seems as if it's a bit… inappropriate to do so today. I mean, what if the Stupidians find out about this place?"

"There is the concern. But then again, the Stupidians are always so preoccupied with blowing up the Middle East that they wouldn't even bother to consider us anything more than a nuisance."

"I guess so. Still, this place has been around for quite some time, certainly long enough for them to notice."

"That's true."

"Ok, maybe a better question to ask is this: has it always been this vehemently anti-Stupidian?"

"It actually waxes and wanes, depending on who is in power. At its best, we've had a fairly negative view of the place. At its worst, we're downright hostile towards it, though it has never resulted in direct violence."

"What do you mean by direct violence?"

"I guess I can explain, but it'll take a while, and I doubt you'd be very entertained by the story."

"If I've survived the stories from Whitesage's history, I can survive this." Wilma answered. And with that, I began again with Whitesage's history, this time in regards to what was formerly called the Southern Empire.

"Owing to the timeline of Whitesage's existence, the history of our hatred towards the Southern Empire, better known as Stupidia, must begin with the first dictator of that country at the time of our reckoning. That, of course, would be the Traditionalist Robert Nitters. Or as many of the old-timers prefer to call him, Bloodthirsty Bobby."

"I see. He got that nickname from the whole Southeast Asia mess, right?"

"In part, yes. But there were other reasons, which you might know of. If not, I can tell you, but I don't think you'd like them."

"Let me think about that. But if I remember quite right, wasn't that guy elected in part because of the actions of the counterculture?"

"That is true. And that was one of the original reasons why we hated him so much: it was much of a symbol of our overbearing efforts to get what we considered the perfect dictator instead of a dictator that was at least willing to tolerate us. Had all of the carnage not occurred at the Modernist political convention in Chicago, or if there was just as much carnage at both conventions, we would've gotten what we wanted. But we didn't, and Nitters was the result."

"So, how did you all of the people get by with Nitters in power?"

"Not very well. Virtually everyone knew that he was an insensitive jerk…"

"Much like Derek."

"Not like Derek, Wilma. This guy was much worse, and even when developments early on in his rulership took place in our favor, notably the Woodmort concert, we all saw it as just a stunt to lure refugee hippies from this place back down to Stupidia so that they could be 'reformed' or otherwise locked away and kept from causing trouble. But at first, we tried to ignore the dolt as much as we could. However, that all changed when we got news of what we like to call the College Massacre."

"What's the College Massacre?"

"Apparently, you've never heard of it. It's pretty self-descriptive, but to understand it, the event occurred not long after Nitters decided rather foolishly to expand the war in Southeast Asia, instead of trying to draw the conflict down, which was one of his campaign promises. Originally, the war was contained in Vietnam, but Nitters decided to expand the conflict into some of its neighbors. Most of Stupidia, who was sick and tired of the war by now, went ballistic when they got word of this, but none so much as college students. There was a general consensus that the military draft in place would dramatically expand, and seeing it as the moron's path that it was, they began to do everything in their power to resist the draft and discredit the dictatorship, going in as far as engaging in terroristic activities. It was a very messy time back then, and virtually every college in Stupidia looked as much like a war zone as Southeast Asia did."

"Wow. That's pretty intense on what you are describing. So, what's this College Massacre about?"

"The same stuff I just told you. It occurred in early May of 1970; I don't remember the exact date of the incident. Apparently, there was a significant protest aimed towards a military officer school on the campus, and out of fear of having the school razed, law enforcement was called in to protect it. No one around here really knows of all the details what happened next, much less cares, but they say that things spiraled out of control and the law personnel fired upon the protest group, killing several of them and wounding several more. It was such a horrible incident that the college where it took place at closed down immediately and stayed closed for over a year. And I won't go into detail about the personal aftermath of the participants."

Wilma, once again, was totally shocked by the story I told her. "Oh, that's… that's…" she tried to say, but just couldn't find the words to finish. "You don't have to say it, Wilma. There are no words that can accurately describe this disaster." I replied. "It was, and still is, terrible beyond words."

"So, what happened when Whitesage heard about this… this… incident."

"Being that there were no traditional media connections in Whitesage at the time, we didn't get news of the slaughter until two days after it had happened. But once word got into Whitesage, it spread faster than the plague in the Middle Ages. The whole public went berserk beyond berserk when they heard this, and they demanded Robert Red Sage and the Whitesage Consortium to do something about Bloodthirsty Bobby, as they would now refer to him from that point forward. The next day, Robert Red Sage issued the Declaration of Assassination."

Wilma's eyes bugged out bigger than anytime I had seen previously before, which, again, didn't surprise me. She then squeaked, "Declaration of Assassination?"

"Yes. Declaration of Assassination. It said that for whoever exterminates the dictator Robert Nitters will be given permanent citizenry in Whitesage, along with their future kin, and would receive one billion Canadian dollars, to be paid out over the next century." I answered.

Wilma was maybe even more shocked to hear of the details of the document. She looked very pale and I was afraid that she would faint at any second. I was about to ask her if she felt OK, but she spoke first, saying, "This is insane! I… I thought this was a peaceful community who… who would want to avoid the dealing with… with…"

"I know, Wilma." I said, trying to put her at ease. "It seems completely out of place knowing the people that live here. But you must remember that even the most peaceful people in the world have their limits, and they do snap if things go sour enough. In this case, the people couldn't accept something of this caliber of villainy, and this was the end result."

Wilma did seem to relax a little, though she still looked pale. "So, what was the reaction to this… thing?"

"Initially, the response was beyond enthusiastic. Virtually everyone there wanted to get in on the action." I said. "But as they let things sink in, it became clear they would likely have to go into Stupidia to execute the plan, the interest dried up pretty quickly. There were quite a few attempts to pull off the hit, but the only serious attempt came from a man named Steven Braake."

"Who's he?"

"He was a mechanic that lived in the Baltimore region. He got word of the story from a relative that fled to Canada some time before and who was living in the Whitesage area at the time. It is believed that this relative told him about the Declaration of Assasination in hopes that the two could split the bounty on Nitters' head. At first, Braake was hesitant to go along with the plan, as he was generally content with his life. But after numerous personal setbacks, namely the loss of his job from the economic recession in 1973, he went full-steam ahead to kill Nitters. His plan was to hijack a plane and crash it into the dictator's mansion; with any luck, he'd he there and he would die in the explosion."

"Much like what happened a couple years ago, but only with one plane and towards a different building." Wilma responded. "I take it that the plan failed."

"Utterly. The plan was executed in late February of 1974. Braake attempted to hijack a freight plane that was to fly to Philadelphia with a load of industrial supplies. But he was spotted by the loading crews, who quickly alerted security forces. A firefight erupted soon between Braake and the guards, and in the end, three people were dead. One of them was Braake."

"Wow. I didn't know that those places had good security back then."

"Well, the conflict in Southeast Asia was still going on, and so there was a greater need for tight security measures and competent security personnel."

"I bet then that interest in the Declaration of Assassination disappeared after that flop."

"Yes, but not for that reason. By the time of the attempt, Nitters and his lackeys were dealing with repercussions regarding what will forever known to everyone in the world as the Watson hotel scandal."

"Isn't that the scandal where Nitters tried to sabotage his political rivals?"

"That's the one. This didn't surprise any of us in Whitesage when we got word of the deed, knowing Nitters' non-existent morals. It also didn't surprise that nearly everyone that worked under him were involved in the whole thing, even if their roles were minor. It quickly became the talk of the town, as many people were anticipating the day when Nitters would be stripped of his titles and sent to prison for his crimes. In mid 1974, we got what we wanted: a formal criminal investigation into Nitters' involvement in the Watson hotel scandal. But before it could get going, Nitters did the only smart thing he ever did during his rule, and that was he resigned."

"Yeah, I knew that much."

"Really? This isn't part of Canadian history."

"My mom told me about it several years ago, when we had a tolerable relationship." Wilma then sighed a little, and then she said, "Anyway, I bet that Whitesage celebrated that news beyond belief."

"Oh yes. If you talk to the old-timers, they will say that it was like having all of the festivals crammed into one day the mood was so joyous."

"But what about the Declaration of Assassination? Was it kept active?"

"Yes it was. But it was no longer publically advertised, and there was almost no interest in trying to pull it off. There were two reasons for this: the first and most obvious was that there wasn't as much symbolic value of killing off a former dictator who was already considered a pariah by his own country. There was a general consensus amongst us that history would be a harsher and more thorough punisher than any one person could ever be. The second reason was security. Knowing how paranoid Nitters was during his time as dictator and the measures he put in place, some of which ironically cost him the title of dictator, the chances of anyone succeeding was astronomically small. It was only cancelled when Nitters' did die, and the original copy of it is now enshrined in the Chieftain's office. Since then, we have vowed never to put a bounty on a Stupidian dictator head, no matter how great the temptation."

"OK. So after Nitters abdicated his position as dictator, who took his place?"

"The man that took over his spot was his second-in-command, one Garth Farris. He wasn't the original second-in-command; the original person that held the post – I don't remember what his name was – resigned before Nitters did. He wound up getting the position because he wasn't directly connected to Nitters and his associates. This was kind of odd, since he was part of the Traditionalist party, and the connections to the party and the Watson hotel scandal basically went across the board. Even now, we haven't got a clue on how he wasn't considered tied to the scandal. But he somehow got the position of second-in-command, and from there he became dictator."

"What did people in Whitesage think of him?"

"Since he was a virtual unknown, we tried to cut him some slack. All we really wanted him to do was to keep the investigation on Nitters going, so that the world could see his evil designs. Even if he wasn't formally punished for his crimes, we felt that it was necessary to reveal what he did so that such a mistake could be prevented in the future. But Farris didn't do that. Instead, he closed the investigation and actually issued a pardon for Nitters and his flunkies for the crimes they had committed."

"He did that? But why?"

"I think that he just wanted Stupidia to move on from the Watson hotel scandal, so that other issues could be contended without the cloud hanging over them."

"I don't know about you Arthur, but that seems like an incredibly stupid and shallow explanation for such a move. If he actually worked a normal job, he would have been fired on the spot for something like that."

"Believe it or not, everyone in Stupidia had the same sentiment, let alone in Whitesage. But to us, it was more than just a cheap move. It was a sign that the Traditionalists were just as interested in protecting their fellow party members from justice as they were in trying to silence others that disagreed with their worldview. For that, Whitesage would from then on show a stronger bitterness towards the Traditionalist party and everything they represented than they did the Modernists, though it can be hard to tell at times. This can best be said by the message Robert Red Sage delivered during the Samhain festival of 1976: 'Please let the Modernists take over the Southern Empire, or may the oceans swallow it and the nightmares it produces.' The divine entity/entities thankfully responded to the prayer, as the Modernist Jeremy Claybourne took over as dictator shortly thereafter."

"So, what was the perception of Claybourne when he became the leader?"

"At first, we were very happy that he had taken over Stupidia, though any Modernist that wanted the job would've gotten it, knowing that recent history at the time was on their side. But when we dug a bit deeper into his background, we became a bit apprehensive."

"But why? He was the type of person everyone wanted."

"That's what we thought at first, but we all kind of freaked out when we found out that, by all definitions, he was an evangelist Christian."

"What's that?"

"It's a fancy way of saying extremist Christian, mostly of the Protestant groups. As is today, there was a huge fear that such a person as dictator would establish a strict Christian theocracy, or government where a sanctioned faith can establish a spiritual monopoly on the populous and can determine whether or not other religions can exist on its territories, and if so, what roles they are allowed. And for a number of reasons, we feared that if such plans were put in motion, our very existence would be threatened. Thankfully, that never happened."

"I see. Eh, I hate to interrupt you, but could I use the bathroom really quick?" Wilma said.

I replied, "Go right ahead." She then made her way to the bathroom, while I got a chance to catch my breath. I had not been used to talking this much, and my jaw was starting to get a little sore. I looked at Sven, who was sleeping. _I don't know what you'd do when Wilma leaves._ I thought as I pondered my next words.

A few minutes later, Wilma emerged from the bathroom. She sat back in her prior spot and said, "So, we were on Claybourne and the fears of theo… I don't remember the word."

"Theocracy." I said. "Yes, that's where we left off. As I said earlier, Whitesage was worried about such a thing coming to pass in Stupidia. But that didn't happen. What we got was a man more cut from our cloth, or a man who seemed to get it."

"Get it?"

"Yes. After the failures in Southeast Asia, Stupidia no longer had the legitimacy to pick a fight with whoever it wanted. Claybourne understood this and began to reshape Stupidia into a normal nation, one that had to play by the rules if it wanted something done in its favor. He also understood that it was not good for Stupidia to be so insular and aggressive, and he sought to correct that."

"Did he get it, so to speak?"

"At first, we thought he did. During the first two years as dictator, he did much to fix the problems that his predecessors had created or otherwise ignored, and he did so in a way that we saw as positive. This was especially true on the international scene, where his peacemaking efforts showed that one didn't need to kill someone in order to bring about tranquility, and where he forgave the draft-dodgers for their accurate assumptions. After those first two years, many of us in Whitesage began to feel as if our disgust of Stupidia has been overblown, and even some of the old-timers were thinking that the past failures Stupidia made could be forgiven. Then 1979 rolled around, and it changed everything."

"I'm taking it was not for the better, Arthur."

"Not hardly. Over the course of 1979 and 1980, things began to unravel for Claybourne and his desire to make his country into a respectable place, and his efforts to at least stop the onslaught were spineless. There were three things that doomed his dictatorship and soured his reputation with both Stupidia and Whitesage."

"Like what?"

"The first of these was the coming of an economic phenomenon called stagflation."

"OK, I don't know much about economics Arthur. Can you explain what that's all about?"

"Of course. In basic, stagflation occurs when the economy stops growing, or stagnates, and inflation starts to grow. It's kind of hard to explain it in greater detail to you, being as technical as it is. But earlier in the decade, there had been a lot of bad economic decisions and instances that, when combined, began to drive up prices for goods and services, and it was nearly impossible for employers to match those costs without damaging their companies. And it wasn't just a Stupidian problem; we too were affected by it, though on a lesser scale. Had it not happened, Whitesage would've looked much like other towns of its size. However, once stagflation took hold Whitesage became very much concerned with the consumption of materials. But such a mindset has never been Stupidia's calling card, and much of the blame landed on Claybourne's shoulders."

"Didn't Claybourne try to at least alleviate the problem?"

"He did. But it's very difficult to fight stagflation, and despite his best efforts, he was unable to do much to dent the issue. It was best epitomized in a TV address that he said was aimed to try to boost the morale of his citizenry and to provide suggestions to help them get by. This was seen as a pep talk by his allies, but as a malaise speech by his opponents. Something that sort of thing would work for us, but it did little good for the Stupidians, who demands more action than rhetoric. But considering that economic cycles unfairly target whoever is in power, I will say that of all the things that befell Claybourne, this was the thing that was most easily forgiven."

"I see. So, the other things that hit Claybourne were much worse?"

"Yep. One of those 'other' things is a little talked-about incident in Stupidia, but here in Whitesage, it was a sickening display of idiocy that permanently ruined any chance of reconciliation between us and Stupidia."

"Hm. What was the incident?"

"The incident is known as the Dragons' Disco Destruction Disaster."

"Disco? Isn't that the music people in your age group really liked but in a bizarre, kooky sense?"

I didn't exactly like Wilma's response, even though I disliked disco music. It was only for her safety, knowing that it was just as popular as it was in the high times. After thinking a bit, I said, "Wilma, that's not entirely true. I mean, we can say the same things about your generation's music. And also, while I think that disco music is kind of dumb, it's still quite popular around here."

"But still, why would Whitesage have such an issue with this… event?"

"Well, in order to explain why, we first must understand how disco came to be in the first place."

"Alright." Wilma said, half-groaning.

"Thanks for your patience, Wilma." I replied. "It's hard to know when disco music came into being, but in Whitesage, it is believed to have been developed by hippies who had been driven into hiding for their views. They combined the music they were used to with other types of music, namely African and Latino styles. A little experimenting later, and disco became the style of music we know now."

"But why did it ever get popular in the first place?"

"Simply put, it was the type of music that allowed people to let go of their problems and stop watching the world around them. You have to remember that in the late 1970s, there were an awful lot of problems in the world, and after the failures in Southeast Asia, people wanted to do whatever they could to try and wipe it out of their memories. Disco became the unofficial prescription to the disease of sorts as a result."

"Yeah. That really doesn't make all that much sense to me. I mean, I listen to music all the time, and it didn't seem to help fix my problems."

"That is true Wilma. Disco, like other forms of music, can only hide problems, not fix them. But for a time it was the music almost everyone listened to, at all times of the day. However, like all good things, the craze couldn't last forever, and when 1979 rolled around, disco became a source of ridicule in Stupidia."

"Well that's no surprise. It's just an overly cheesy style of music."

"That's not the reason it fell out of favor. There was a pair of reasons for its decline: the first was that it was a contradictory style of music, in a number of ways. Namely, it seemed too ethnically inclusive and too ethnically challenged all at once, and in Stupidia where racism is accepted to varying degrees, it started to lose its appeal. The second was that it was associated with heavy drug use and 'immoral' behavior, and a lot of people became sickened by it."

"So where does this Destruction Disaster come into play?"

"It came into play during the summer of 1979, in Chicago. According to what I've been told, there was a radio personality who, at the time, had connections to the higher ups in the Chicago Dragons athletics group. It was during the safeball season, and the men's safeball team wasn't doing very well that year. And whenever a sports team doesn't do very well, their revenues from ticket sales and merchandise begins to dry up. In an attempt to boost these sales, one of the shareholders approached this radio man, looking for suggestions that would get more people into the seats. He came up with what he thought would be a brilliant idea: a halftime performance where they would blow up what he thought would be a few dozen disco records. They would encourage fans to bring their unwanted disco records to the bombing, and those that brought in a record would get their tickets at half-price."

"Did it work?"

"A little too well. After the incident, the radio man said that he was expecting about double the usual attendance, perhaps triple at most. I have no clue on what that figure would be, but they wound up getting hundreds of records and filled the stadium, which had a capacity of roughly 60,000."

"That many?"

"Yes. That many. The stadium workers weren't expecting that many, especially at that time of year and with the record the Chicago Dragons men's safeball team had. But getting back to the story: after the 4th inning, the halftime break took place. The crowd cheered as the radio man and a number of stadium workers brought out tables and box after box of disco records, which were placed onto the tables. Then pyrotechnics began placing explosive charges under the tables, enough to totally demolish every record on the field. The crowd cheered even louder as this happened. Finally the radio man took to the pitcher's mound, and after making a short speech to the crowd, he pressed the detonator. In just a few seconds, the explosives shredded the records and the tables they were sitting on, leaving behind a large swatch of debris. The crowd equally exploded in cheers, and for reasons no one will truly know, they stormed the field and began to riot. It was said that the entire police force in Chicago had to be called in to quell the chaos, which lasted for nearly half an hour. No one died in the incident and there were few injuries, but there were hundreds of arrests and the field and stadium was so badly damaged that the Chicago Dragons were forced to forfeit the game."

"All that for a dumb halftime show? Golly, that is incredibly shortsighted on everyone's part."

"It is. And I won't go into the personal repercussions about the incident. Thankfully for the Dragons, they would be playing on the road for the next few games, so the stadium could be repaired in time for the following home stint."

"OK, sports stuff aside, what was the overall reaction to this, as well as its legacy?"

"It depends on the geography. In Stupidia, it was a shocking incident to be sure, but it was quickly forgotten by the populous, as the riot melted into the stew that was the gloomy malaise that grasped Stupidia at the time. But for us, it was far more telling and serious incident. Before then, we were beginning to think that, as I said before, the fear and loathing of the Stupidians had been misplaced and that they were finally getting what we had been saying all this time: that a peaceful society was the only thing that guaranteed trust among their peers. But after the Dragons' Disco Destruction Disaster, all of those feelings went out the window. We could now clearly see that Stupidian society was incurably and senselessly violent, and thus was beyond our trust. In fact, it was the topic of Robert Red Sage's last public address. In it, he said that in light of the riot, 'we citizens of Whitesage must do everything to block the spread of barbaric nonsense that the Stupidians spit out into the atmosphere, lest the future be unlivable for our offspring.' He also wrote up a new law which made it illegal for those who held Stupidian citizenship status to set foot in Whitesage. That law was passed and put into place within a day."

"So, that was two of the three things that soured Whitesage towards Claybourne. What was the last thing?"

"The last thing, and perhaps the most famous – or should I say infamous – was the Iranian Hostage Crisis."

"Oh that. I heard about that in school, though I don't remember all of the details. It was something about a bunch of crazed college students that overthrew the government and took several hostages of the… particular nationality. Is that correct?"

"Pretty much. But the incident was mostly of Stupidian designs, once again dinking around in a part of the world they didn't need to be; they were probably doing so to get to their fossil fuels. And as usual, they gave the locals, in this case the Iranians, the short end of the stick for their proposed deals. It could only end one way, and that was badly for everyone."

Wilma then just looked at me, as if to say, _Well duh_. It was pretty telling that she knew enough about the incident to allow me to skip some of the finer details, so after clearing my throat a bit, I said, "Anyway, the situation did quite a bit to dim our views towards Stupidia and their imperialistic policies towards the outside world, but initially we all thought that Claybourne would be able to cleanly and peacefully resolve it. But after about six months of negotiations and with little to no progress to show for his efforts, he foolishly decided to end the crisis by military means: he sent in a group of commandos that were sent to rescue the hostages and secure a safe passage out of Iran. The mission, however, was totally derailed by weather conditions."

"I never heard that. I guess it wasn't significant enough to be discussed at school, or at least what I remember hearing."

"To us, though, it was a devastating revelation. It showcased that, no matter who was dictator of Stupidia was or what political affiliation he belonged to, they were always more interested in solving problems by destroying stuff, rather than by diplomacy. In that moment, we lost all faith in Claybourne and his ability to lead."

"So those were the three things that ruined Claybourne. Well, as least the last two in the eyes of Whitesage. I can only imagine what the people… there… thought about it."

"Yeah, that was a huge worry. As bad as we thought of Claybourne, it was much worse in Stupidia, and we knew that they would kick him out of power as soon as they could. And since Claybourne was a Modernist, we knew that a Traditionalist would more likely than not take his place. We, however, were not prepared to see who they chose as the replacement: Roy Rodell."

"Roy Rodell. Wasn't he that old guy that ruled there in the 1980s?"

"Yes, but to us he was about as close to the personification of evil itself. You have to remember that a fair number of old-timers came from the territory of California, and during his time as the baron of that territory he did everything in his power, and then some, to eradicate our culture. He was more easily able to get away with those sorts of things too: unlike Nitters, who was a sour, mean-spirited crook, Rodell was like a cowboy but with manners, which made him more likeable to most people who in turn became permissive of his actions. But perhaps the most frightening thing was the way evangelical Christians seemed to flock to him. In this case, they acted more like the stereotypes that we had personified of them, believing that the world would rip itself apart if Rodell wasn't made the next dictator. We could only watch as Rodell easily unseated Claybourne for the title of dictator. After the news reached us, it would begin the Second die-off."

"Die-off?"

"I'm sorry to bring this up, Wilma, but it's something that once again can't be sugarcoated. Over the course of a month after the news of Rodell's ascendance to dictatorship, roughly 300 people committed suicide, more than double the number of people who did so when Nitters illegitimately extended his dictatorship, which was called the First die-off. Many of their notes said they feared the destruction of the world, or at least the culture of Whitesage, as a result of Rodell's rise to power."

Once again, Wilma looked sick and distraught by the whole thing. I bet that anyone who heard that would feel the same way. Trying to make her feel better, I said, "Listen. I know it's upsetting and disgusting to hear this, but it needed to be said. I admit that I don't like it that much too; I would like to think that people here would think these sorts of things over before doing something so permanent. And just so you know, this all took place well before Derek showed up here." Seeing that it did little to lift her spirits, I said, "If you want me to stop talking about this, I can."

"No, no. You can continue talking." Wilma said, her voice shaking. "Just… just don't mention those sorts of things again, will you? I can't take so much death all at once."

"Agreed." I replied. "After Rodell took power, the public relentlessly prayed that his dictatorship would be a quick one. And at first he seemed destined for that fate. Whilst the theocracy we feared never materialized – we think that what happened in Iran made him reconsider such a notion – it seemed like nothing he did worked out, both domestically and internationally. For the former, he fiddled around with the economic system in such a way that was not conducive to society as a whole and which caused a significant spike in unemployment. For the latter, his idealistic fervor about how the world should be run nearly started a nuclear war with the Soviet Union, though it was they who were at fault."

"How so? And also, how was Whitesage's attitude towards the Soviet Union anyway? I'm kind of curious to learn about that."

"Well, the Soviet Union shot down a passenger plane that came too close to an air patrol and which they couldn't accurately ID the plane. There was a real consensus around the world, not just here in Whitesage, that the last war ever fought would take place very soon due to this incident. It was a miracle that such a thing didn't happen. As for Whitesage's attitude towards the Soviet Union, it was just as negative towards them as it was towards Stupidia. But since they were so much further away from us than Stupidia was, they were considered an afterthought on just about everything."

"I see. I bet it would be kind of awkward to have a bunch of communists living in your area owing to the times. Anyway, please continue."

"Right. Well, as 1983 faded into 1984, virtually everyone in Whitesage was confident that Rodell would wind up in the scrap heap next to the other failed dictators who had ruled before him. But as the weeks went by, something strange happened. For whatever reason and with no obvious answer, things started to look up for the Stupidians and Rodell. It was said that the economy began to improve, but that alone couldn't explain how Stupidia got its confidence back. We may never know, and perhaps we are best off not knowing. All that needs to be known is that when the year came to a close, Rodell had his dictatorship extended."

"So what happened during the remainder of his rule?"

"Not much that we liked, that's for certain. Namely, he continued to play around in areas of the world that he shouldn't have. And he began a serious push for more strident control of drugs, which we generally saw as wasteful and inconsiderate. We did hope that his reputation would be ruined on a scandal involving selling weapons to countries that were on an embargo list, but he never knew anything about the incident and was as deeply disgusted by the incident as we were. In the end, anything that would've exposed him for the jerk he was simply made him look better than he showcased himself to be. It was, in many ways, a relief when his dictatorship finally ended, but he probably could've continued serving as dictator of Stupidia if he chose to do so."

"He could have?"

"Certainly. There were a ton of Stupidians that said they would have kept him in that position for the rest of his life. But he kept to custom and left after a maximum of eight years in power, and in any case his health, both physical and mental, was starting to fail at that point. He wouldn't have stayed in that position very long if he tried."

"Anything else that is worth noting about Rodell?"

"Not much, though he wound up leaving behind a legacy that we see as questionable. True, he did accomplish a lot during his time as dictator. But most of these things we disapproved of greatly, mainly with his economic setup that was much like those in place before the Great Depression. His other social modifications, namely his ill-advised fight against drugs, has also caused more problems than they solved, though it's not worth getting into detail."

"OK, so Rodell left the picture. Who took over for him?"

"That would be his second-in-command, Gabriel Boyd the Elder. When it became obvious that Rodell would not retain his title of dictator, Boyd became the preferred replacement and easily got the job. For him, the work of dictator was very simple: continue Rodell's plans and policies, but allow more people to have a say in how things were run. It was certainly a good plan on paper, but we didn't buy it owing to the fact that he was a Traditionalist, and his general background didn't help that much either."

"Why would that be?"

"The main reason was because he had been a warrior during the second World War. The other reason was that he came from the deep south of Stupidia, where most of the evangelical Christians reside. Ironically, Claybourne also came from this area, but the cultural truths down there are painfully obvious for anyone of our kin who had spent time there."

"Oh. So, what were the general feelings about Boyd?"

"Well, by the time he came into power, we were spending so much of our time dealing with our own things that we didn't pay that much attention to Stupidia. That being said, we were all quite cross when we got word in 1991 that Stupidia had declared war on Iraq, thus beginning the first Mesopotamian war, better known as Sand Spirit. It was done as a way to punish the Iraqi government for invading its neighbor, Kuwait. And while we all despised Iraq's actions, we also saw it inappropriate for Stupidia to reprimand them through force. Unfortunately, Sand Spirit had deep international support, which included Canada, so our argument was quite moot compared to other conflicts. And the fact that the war was over with in a month's time, give or take a few days, made us look a bit foolish in the end."

"Alright. Desert Spirit aside, was there anything else that was noteworthy during his tenure? At least in the eyes of Whitesage, of course."

"Not really. I mean, I guess the fall of the Soviet Union was something significant, but the overall aftermath wasn't anything to write home about. If Whitesage had its way, we would do everything in our power to help the Russians, the Ukrainians, and all of the other nations that formed after the fall of the Soviet Union get back onto their feet. And we have tried to help out, especially in recent years. But thanks to the over-competitive stances of Stupidia, they, along with most of their allies, have done little if anything to help out."

"Wow, that's certainly inconsiderate."

"It is. But I guess that's the way things happen when Stupidia realized that they could virtually own the world. They have little foresight in doing the most good where it is needed most, but when there's a power vacuum that can be filled, they have no peer in that field.

"So, was there much else to talk about in regards to Boyd?"

"Not until 1992 rolled around. When that year came up, there was a general consensus amongst everyone that he would remain as dictator for another four years. But two things happened that ruined his chances of extending his dictatorship."

"And what were those?"

"Well, the first one was that the Stupidian economy slipped into a recession thanks to a number of collapses in the savings and loan industry. It was a pretty nasty fallout and recession, and the timing of it couldn't have been worse for Boyd. But as bad as it was, Boyd made the whole thing even worse by breaking a key promise earlier in his career as dictator."

"And what was that promise?"

"The promise he made was that we would not raise any existing taxes, nor would he establish new ones. But as the recession gripped Stupidia, he reversed those decisions to try and alleviate the problems therein. Now this would not have gone over very well nearly anywhere in the world, including here in Whitesage. But Stupidians are especially sensitive to tax rates and promises about them, so you can only imagine the outcry that came when they got word of this."

"I see. But aren't promises of that sort kind of impossible to keep?"

"I guess, but it's just better not to make promises one can't keep. The world in general and politics in particular would be a lot more pleasant if that was the case."

"Yeah. What about the other reason?"

"The other reason involved a massive riot in the southern portions of California, though it was the aftermath that really messed things up for Boyd."

"Riot? What do you mean?"

"Well, in late 1991 there was an incident where members of the local police force, all of them of European lineage, brutalized a man of black lineage for a minor crime. The incident got onto video, and ultimately several police officers were put on trial. But in the end, the jury found them all innocent of the crimes they were accused. This drove the minorities of the area into a blood-frenzy if you will, since there had been numerous complaints regarding police brutality towards them in the past at the time. Over the course of a week, if not longer, riots rocked the area so badly that the Stupidian military had to be called in to restore order."

"Man, that's just… wrong. On so many levels."

"Now you know why Robert Red Sage had so little faith towards them. Interesting sub-point to make: all of the rioters who were accused of the most serious crimes during those times were all found innocent themselves months later."

"So, what was the aftermath of this that made Boyd look bad?"

"It all had to center around a music album that had been released the year prior. Apparently, some music group had released an album that had one particularly offensive song entitled 'Copper Popper'. Now, copper is just the long nickname for cop, which as you should be familiar with is another name for police. The word popper is a gang reference to something quite self-descriptive. All you need to do is put the two together to get the idea of why it was so controversial."

Wilma at first seemed a bit confused about what I was trying to say, but after a while she began to make a face of utter disgust. She then said, "How did they get away with putting this on the album?"

"It was all under the freedom of speech clause." I explained. "Also, the lead singer of the group – I think he works in TV these days – said that it came about from a discussion regarding police brutality and the helplessness that the minorities were experiencing, and things kind of got warped from the transition to the songwriting."

"I have a VERY hard time believing that, Arthur. And I don't mean by what you are telling me. I mean by what this group put together. Weren't they even trying to think this over?"

"I don't know. Certainly a lot of law enforcement agencies thought that, and they appropriately thought it was wrong to send out a song that… well… I won't say it. I have to keep my promise. At first, not a lot happened, but after a short time, Boyd and his lackeys decided to jump into the fray on the side of the law enforcement groups."

"What did they do?"

"On the surface, it appeared to be nothing more than a lot of hot air; one famous instance of this was when Boyd publicly commented that everyone involved with the album was 'sick-minded'. But behind all of the bravado was a serious debate on what needed to be done. All of our sources were a bit muddled on the details, but at least from what we gathered, it seemed as if Boyd was going to forcibly shut down the record company who made the controversial album and was planning on charging the musical artists and the record executives on a number of crimes, most of which had connections to the southern California riots. Before any of that happened, however, the musical group asked the record label to rerelease the album without 'Copper Popper' on the list of songs, and the record label then told music stores to destroy any and all of the old albums they were in possession of. Those actions satisfied everyone enough to end the issue."

"So why then did it hurt Boyd's reputation? It sounds like he got what he wanted."

"Yes, but I think he wound up looking culturally out of sync with Stupidia during the whole ordeal, especially with the generation coming of voting age. In a way, the southern California riots could be seen as the end of the Rodellian era, where his political theories were taken at face value and without any distortions, and Boyd was unable to make the transition."

"Oh, so it was a generational thing."

"You could say that. But whatever the truth was, those two things wound up costing him an extension of his dictatorship. The Modernist Blaine Curtis would take over soon after."

"You mean they guy who got involved in that infamous scandal that was all over the newspapers a few years ago?"

"Yep, the same guy. Though there was an awful lot of other things he did besides… that."

"Like what?"

"The usual stuff. You see, even though we were very busy with our own problems, we did get enough word from Broken Creek about the happenings of Stupidia to know what was going on. As for our initial attitude towards Curtis, we stood guarded towards him; we knew what happened during the Claybourne years, and we wouldn't get blindsided again."

"Did that change when David took over?"

"Certainly. During the late 1990s and even up until Emperor Nut-Job started the second Mesopotamian war, David Waychka refused to say anything about Stupidia, so we had to personally fill in that void. There wasn't much that we liked about him, outside of the obvious. This included him dinking about in other parts of the world that he had no business getting himself into, taking apart elements of the economic web that would prevent future Great Depressions from happening, and letting Stupidian society degenerate into a belligerent mess that led to school shootings and concert riots, thus further staining their reputation as an empire. Thank religion that Canada as a whole didn't do any of those things. At least what I'm aware of."

"Yeah, I get what you're trying to say. I am a bit dubious on the last part, though. I mean, if you saw all of the things that happen, I bet you would want to burn your eyeballs into dust."

"Well, I didn't say that it was a flawless avoidance. Nothing ever is."

"I see. So from Curtis, we come to…"

"Yes, Emperor Nut-Job, known outside of Whitesage as Gabriel Boyd the Younger. He also goes by a host of other names, but a lot of them I shouldn't say for politeness' sake."

"I know this sounds… redundant… hopefully I've used the right word… but I take it that everyone here hates his guts."

"That's putting it mildly, Wilma. Some of the old-timers consider him worse than Nitters, which says a lot since he was universally reviled for everything he did. And quite a bit of this happened before the second Mesopotamian War started."

"What it because he is a Traditionalist? If that is correct."

"Yes, though a better term may be extreme Traditionalist. Even before he became dictator, he was perhaps the worst choice for the position, based upon his efforts as a duke: he was so hands-off on critical points that during the Curtis years, Curtis actually had to FORCE him to take actions. But even outside of that, he is like the hardcore caricature of what we see as a Traditionalist: some backwards-minded hack who sucks up to big business, who doesn't care about the environment, who believes his general religion should be the only religion in existence and should influence how everything domestically is run, and who threatens to blow up anyone that looks at him funny."

"I see. The last point seems pretty obvious to that fact. Even I don't need a description."

"Good, because it's a waste of breath. A lot of people around here have become winded denouncing Emperor Nut-Job on everything he's done, because he's done so much of it. And it's become particularly acute as it's a vote year in Stupidia to determine whether or not he will get an extension of his dictatorship."

"It is? How likely is that?"

"That's the hard part, Wilma. There's so much information floating about cyberspace that we can't accurately assess the true figures. Some say that it will be a tight vote between Emperor Nut-Job and his challenger, Jared Khoker. Others say that Khoker will win handily. But we can't tell what's the truth down there."

"Who's Jeremy Khoker? I mean, I've heard his name a few times, but I really don't know the details about him." Wilma asked.

"Jared Khoker is a Modernist who fought for, then against, the wars in Southeast Asia." I answered. "He's respected by a lot of people around the world, but he's a bit dull and wordy. Still, he's better than Emperor Nut-Job in almost every way. I hope the Stupidians can use their brains again and get rid of Emperor Nut-Job before he completely ruins the planet. I can only imagine the chaos and complications that would arise if he continues ruling Stupidia, and even we would not be exempt from his wrath."

"Why would that be?"

"I wish I could tell you, but…"

"Oh. I get it. Is there anything else regarding the Stupidian dictators worth talking about?"

"Not really. I think I covered it all."

"OK. I think I'm going to get ready for bed now. It's starting to be quite late." Wilma said as she got up. I nodded my head, and after getting up myself, I said, "I'll be getting ready for bed in a little bit. I'll just be downstairs, taking stock of things. Call out if you need me."

I walked downstairs to my little hidden office area and locked the door behind me. I then picked up the phone and called Susan. Once again, there was the normal Hello greeting, and then we got to the discussions proper. "How were things today?" Susan asked first.

"Oh, they went well. Wilma took care of a number of dogs at a dog day-care center today as part of her job shadows." I replied. "It's hard to tell if she liked it or not, but I think she did."

"I think she would. Wilma has a major affinity for animals, though it's mostly connected to frogs."

"That aside, there wasn't much else that needs to be said. How are things going in your neck of the woods?"

"OK I guess. It's awfully quiet around here though. I miss not having Wilma to talk to, even if those talks turn into arguments."

"Well, just try to hang in there. In a few days she'll return home."

"I hope so. I don't necessarily want her to live out there, if she decides that she likes Whitesage better than Heatherfield."

"I'll see if I can convince her out if it if such an idea pops up. Also, have you heard from Wilma's friends about anything?"

"Not really. I suspect that you've gotten some new E-Mails from them. Have you checked them yet?"

"No. I'll check them in a little bit."

"Well, I guess I better let you go then."

"Alright. I'll talk to you around this time tomorrow. And try not to get too down on yourself; things should work themselves out."

"OK. Bye."

"Bye." I then hung up and got my computer turned on. After letting it warm up, I checked my E-Mails. I was quite surprised to hear not only from Taranee, but from most of her other friends. Taranee's E-Mail read like this:

Once again, I'm checking in to see how things are going. I didn't get a reply from you with the last E-Mail I sent; hopefully you can send me confirmation that you are getting them.

Everyone else has been let known of your E-Mail address and has probably sent word to you by now. Please be sure to reply to their E-Mails too.

Regardless of what's being said prior, I hope that Wilma is doing OK. We all miss her greatly.

I hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely, Taranee.

After reading that, I read the next E-Mail, which was from Irma:

I heard from my father and Ms. Vandom that this is the E-Mail address I should use to contact you.

Is Wilma OK? I didn't mean to upset her! I feel like a giant turd for making her so sad!

Please tell me that Wilma is doing OK. Only then will I not feel so guilty!

Sincerely, Irma.

The next E-Mail was from Hay Lin:

If you are the person taking care of Wilma, please let me know as soon as possible.

Above all else, please do what you can to make Wilma feel better. We all feel terrible for making her feel unwanted, and anything that you can do to help patch things up will be greatly appreciated by all of us.

Sincerely, Hay Lin.

Finally, there was one from Matt, Wilma's boyfriend:

Hello. Taranee gave me this E-Mail address not too long ago, and I hope that it works.

I don't know what to say. I'm obviously sad that Wilma ran away, and I think we are partially to blame: I was told that part of the reason for the incident may have been the fact that I, along with her friends, had been ignoring her for no good reason. The truth was that we were planning a surprise Halloween party for her, and we didn't want to spoil the surprise. Perhaps we should've make it a regular Halloween party, including her in the processes.

Also, I told Neil Weber, a member of the boy's swimming and diving team, about what happened when he asked me about Wilma's whereabouts, and I passed along your E-Mail address to him so he can write to you. Whether or not he passes it along with the rest of the swimmers and divers is beyond me.

I guess that's all I can say for today. Please help out Wilma in any way you know how.

Sincerely, Matt Olson.

After reading through all of the E-Mails, I decided to go send out an official reply. Once I had all of the E-Mail addresses listed down, I wrote the following message:

I have gotten your messages. Please excuse me for the slow response, as I work long days.

Wilma on the whole is doing fine. I've been keeping her busy for the stay she's in, and while she seems a bit dour, she doesn't appear miserable. Hopefully her mood will improve in the coming days.

I'll give future reports on her status as the days go along. And by all accounts she should be back home this upcoming Saturday.

Sincerely, Arthur Addlestadt.

I sent the word out, and then I shut off the computer. I then went about getting ready for bed, and soon enough I was in the sack, ready for another day of craziness.


	6. Chapter 6

Page | 8

_Day 6_

I woke up the next morning to the sound of dog food clinking against the bottom of Sven's food bowl. By now it was so usual that I barely noticed, but I knew that it wasn't; by the end of the week it would be all over.

After getting myself adjusted, I strolled out to see Wilma washing her hands in the kitchen sink. I decided not to implore on it, since it probably dealt with dog food dust. I simply went over to the fridge and took out the milk and juice. I then grabbed the cereal from the cabinet and brought the three items to the table. I then turned to Wilma, who was sitting down at the table, and I said, "Don't worry about the other stuff. I'll get them."

"I wasn't too worried about that." Wilma said. She seemed a bit tired, but as with her washing her hands, I decided not to ask about it.

I instead just concentrated on breakfast, which I noticed was starting to shrink in terms of supplies. _I guess I need to head back to the Co-op._ I thought as I poured out the cereal and milk into my bowl._ Hmm, maybe that should be another place for Wilma to have a job shadow, but only if she wants to. I should ask her._ So I turned my attention to Wilma and asked, "You know Wilma, I was thinking that I would need to head off to the Co-op to get some more foodstuffs. Maybe you wouldn't mind having a job shadow over there." After she kind of glared at me, I then added, "If you want to, of course."

Wilma soon softened, and said, "If you want to get something set up, go ahead. I don't care."

"Are you sure? You didn't look like you liked the idea."

"What other ideas do you have? It's not like there's too many better places out there."

"OK. I just want to make sure before I do something you disagree with." I then returned back to my cereal, and probably got just a bite when Wilma asked, "So, just in case I didn't get accepted to the job shadow at Orin's place, where should I go?"

"Hmm. That's a good point, Wilma. I think it would be best if you return here." I answered. "Normally I would say just go off to Connections, one of the RCAs, or the library, but I think you'd generate a lot of suspicion."

She nodded in compliance, though I could also sense that she didn't exactly liked being patronized in that fashion. I couldn't blame her, but I didn't have much of a choice; it was for both of our own goods.

The rest of breakfast was uneventful by the previous days' standards. We were soon done with our food and with the dishes done, we then got cleaned up and dressed. From there, it was just a matter of getting Sven harnessed up and all of us being out the door. However, when I looked outside the window, it looked much cloudier than it had earlier; more likely than not, it was going to rain. Turning back towards where I thought Wilma was, I said, "Wilma, I think it might rain today. I know you brought along a jacket, but did you bring along an umbrella?"

"No." Wilma replied. She soon appeared from the bathroom, looking a lot fresher than she did earlier that morning.

"Ugh. OK then, you can use mine for today. I'll get myself a new one at the nearby department store."

"Are you sure? I can get by without one."

"No, I insist. Besides, it's not raining right now."

"Alright." With that, Wilma took Sven's lease from me while I got the umbrella from the closet. I then handed the umbrella to her, and she gave me back the lease. We then headed out the door, with me hoping that the rain would hold off until I got to the Mystic's Emporium.

It probably wasn't more than 1-2 minutes until we got to Orin's bus stop. As I expected, he was already there, and he waved at us as we approached. "Hey Arthur! Wilma! Good to see you two again!" he called out.

"Yeah, it's awfully nice to see you as well, Orin." I replied. "Did you get the boss' OK for the job shadow?"

"Yes I did. She can come with me to work for today, if only for a few hours."

"Sounds good." I then turned to Wilma and said, "Well, I guess this is where we will part ways for much of the day. I'll see you this evening."

"You too." Wilma said. From there I left her at the bus station, and I headed off with Sven to the Howl House. After dropping him off, I went straight into the Mystic's Emporium, where I got into the shop just before it started to rain. It was only a light rain, but it was still rain.

The work day was fairly dull by any standard, though we did get a fair number of customers. The only thing that was a bit out of place occurred a little after lunch, when Derek showed up unexpectedly with a few boxes. "Excuse me, but I got an order that belongs to you." He said as he walked up to Bryan. Unsurprisingly, he looked to me, as if to say, _Can you please get him out of here?_ I took the cue, and I persuaded him to return to Balder's Books, but after we stepped outside, he motioned me into the bookstore. A bit reluctantly, I followed his lead.

The bookstore, by all means, had not changed all that much. It was just the way I hard remembered it years before, though there was now that stale, uncomfortable feel that seemed to resonate within the walls I wasn't used to. But as it would only be for a few minutes – Derek always wanted to get down to business, regardless of what it was – I tried not to let it bother me.

Derek looked around to make sure no one else was around, and then he said, "I see that Bryan is still irritated by my presence."

"I think that goes for just about everyone here in Whitesage, Derek." I replied. "So why did you drag me here? I still have work to do."

"I know. It's just that… I'm growing increasingly uncomfortable about things, Arthur. And I mean the big things. Stuff that I shouldn't be worried about, but I am."

"Like what?"

"Oh, it's all over the place. I mean, can't you feel it? A foreboding energy worming its way throughout this place and indeed throughout the world?"

"No, I don't. Eh, have you been smoking something? You sound more paranoid then you usually do."

"I wish." Derek replied, walking back to his cash register. "But that's not what I'm talking about. What I'm talking about is in regards to a dream I had. I dreamt that Emperor Nut-Job got an extension to his dictatorship, and that in the coming years, disasters both from the hands of humanity and the hands of the divine would permeate throughout the world until the planet blew itself up from the stress. That is what I've been paranoid about."

"So why are you telling this to me?"

"For the obvious reason that you are one of the few people here in Whitesage that is willing to see beyond my exterior. Albeit reluctantly, of course."

"Yes. But you know, it you have a problem with the issue, why don't you do something about it? In as long as it's in good taste." Derek halfway nodded, and then I made my way to the door, but then stopped. _Maybe that was a bit too abstract of a description. I should probably clear some things up._ I thought. From there, I turned around and said, "Please don't do anything dumb, Derek."

"I'll try not to." Derek replied. "But then again, the decisions I make are totally my own, and their consequences are inconceivable until they are fully revealed."

"What you mean by that?"

"I'm kind of surprised that you'd ask that, Arthur, knowing what we've both been through. It means that a decision can't be made good or bad until the end results are totaled and judged. In both of our cases, we had to run away from bad situations, and they proved to be good decisions on our parts, as they cleaned the slate and gave us a new base to work off of."

I understood what he was talking about, and I felt a little guilty for bringing the subject up to him. But as I was acknowledging my brief lapse into mindlessness, I thought, _Hmm, he had a good point. Maybe he can shed some light on Wilma's situation. I don't there should be too much of a problem as long as I don't use Wilma directly._ So I then said, "Hey Derek, before I head back to work, I would like some insight on something."

"I guess it wouldn't hurt." Derek replied.

"Thanks. Now, I heard that within our region, a girl in her late teens, ended up running away from home because everything about her life was falling apart…"

"Can you better define 'everything' for me?"

"I mean through family relationships, through school relationships, through schoolwork, and school athletics. The whole ball of wax, per se. Would it be in the best interest for her to do that?"

"Well, it wouldn't be the worst idea in the world. I probably would do so, to be honest with you. I mean, it can't be any worse than sucking it up, being labeled a failure, descending into misery, and ultimately killing yourself. People have to do what they feel like is needed, and if that girl finds happiness, then it's all good in the end."

"Yeah, that's makes sense." After a short break, I said, "Thanks for clearing that up for me, Derek. I'll be heading back to work now."

"OK. Take care." Derek said, and with that I left the bookstore and returned to the Mystic's Emporium.

The rest of my day for that day was pretty usual after that. Once I was done for the day, I went off to get myself an umbrella. Thankfully by that time the rain wasn't falling as hard as it had been, so I didn't get too wet in the process. With my new umbrella in tow, I walked over to the Whitesage Co-op to pick up some food.

Once inside, I was greeted by the oldest of all of the managers, a man who simply called himself the Lost Sense, though his real name was Larry. He was one of the old-timers of Whitesage, having lived through virtually everything that had happened throughout the long history of the place. But unlike so many of his generation, he was tolerant towards those not affiliated with the Neo-Pagan faiths. "How are you doing?" he said as I walked into the store.

"Not bad." I replied. "Sorry if I'm coming in at a non-usual time, Larry. But I kind of need the foodstuffs."

"No problem, Arthur. You have my backing."

With that, I grabbed a bag and began loading it up with food, which included cereal, milk, orange juice, soups, a pair of ready-made goulash meals, and a kit for vegetarian dressing. I thought that those two things would be the meals for the next couple of nights, and I would take Wilma out to eat for the final night. In all, I had gotten more food than I really needed, but knowing my circumstances there wasn't much of a choice here.

After getting everything gathered up, I walked over to the cash register, where Larry was waiting. He was definitely surprised to see all of the food I had gathered. "Wow. I've never seen you buy this much food before." He said as I began emptying out the bag. "Expecting company?"

"No, I already have it. I'm taking care of a teenage girl from outside of town." I replied. "And let me tell you: it takes a lot of food to keep things going."

"I see. So you are part of the program showing teenagers from outside Whitesage what it's like here. Probably a good thing too: a lot of the polls involving Emperor Nut-Job and Khoker are so even that it's becoming almost impossible to determine what'll happen in Stupidia. If my instincts are correct, we may need an influx of new people to replace all of those who… well, you know."

I was quite tinged about him saying that, perhaps out of respect for Wilma's feelings. But he knew what he was talking about, and such an inconvenient truth couldn't be ignored. However, I wanted to change the subject, so I said, "That aside, what else is going on around here?"

"Not much. I'm obviously looking forward to the Samhain festival, as evident by the decorations, but beyond that, it's been pretty normal around these parts. You?"

"It's all about the girl I'm taking care of for this week. She's been going through various job shadows to see what working life is like here in Whitesage, and outside of that I've been showing her around here to display what the rest of Whitesage has to offer."

"I see. What does she think of it all?"

"You know, I've never seriously asked her about it. I probably should."

"Yes. Anyway, here's the bill." He then passed the paper to me, and I was shocked to see that I was to pay ¤101.253 for the whole thing; I had never paid for ¤100+ in groceries ever. But I knew that I couldn't complain, and I began to shell out the money for my purchases. I was able to shell out enough to pay the bill, without having it put on the tab. With the groceries bagged up, I asked, "Hey Larry, would it be OK if the girl lodging at my place conducts a job shadow here?"

"Of course, Arthur. I'm always happy to show teenagers from outside here to see a place like this. Will you be bringing her here, or will she show up on her own?"

"No, I'll bring Wilma around next morning; that's the girl's name, by the way."

"OK, I'll keep that in mind. Well, you probably want to get home to her, and I don't think you want your food to get tepid. So, I'll see you around."

"You too, Larry." And I was soon out the door, my umbrella opened up. It was a good thing too, since it was starting to rain kind of hard.

About ten minutes later, I had picked up Sven from the Howl House, and after another ten minutes I was back at home. I walked in to the house to see Wilma sacked out on the couch, so I said out loud, "Hi Wilma. I've got food." She slowly got up, obviously a bit cross from having been woken. But she was soon setting up the table and helping put the groceries away.

We ate supper up pretty quickly, but during this time I noticed that Wilma's expression was a bit hard to read, though it looked to be mostly confusion. I didn't know what it was, but I was so hungry that I decided not to talk until the meal was over. After we were finished, Wilma returned to the couch, where she sat down, looking towards the window as if she had lost something close to her. Sven could see that she was troubled, and trotted out to see her. She definitely took notice of this and began petting and stroking his head, but she still looked rather forlorn. Seeing all of this compelled me to work faster with the dishes, so I could help her out.

Once I was done with the dishes, I walked over to Wilma and said, "Is everything OK?"

Wilma looked up at me and said, "Oh. Yes, everything's fine. I guess."

Not quite buying it, I then said, "Are you sure? You sound as if something is bothering you. Did something go wrong at the job shadow?"

"No. That went fine. It's… it's just that I'm really confused about the situation I'm in." She replied, looking down at Sven as she said it.

I was understandably concerned, so I sat down next to her and said, "Well, just tell me what is confusing you, and maybe I can figure something out for you."

Wilma looked back towards me, and then said, "I'm just wondering if everything I've done was worth it. Ever since I left behind my old life, I've been thinking whether or not it was the right choice. I've never given it much thought until now, and now that it has sunk in, I feel conflicted."

"In other words, you are having second thoughts."

"At this point, I've gotten to fifth thoughts about it all."

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

"Well, it's mostly in regards whether or not I should stay here. And neither one sounds like a good option. If I decide to stay here, more likely than not I'll have to return to school, and I've already had enough awkward new school experiences. And especially after hearing about of the school setup from Orin, I don't think I would be able to stomach it."

"You wouldn't be the first one to complain about the school setup, Wilma. Nearly every kid who has lived outside of Whitesage who then has to live here has complained about it more than anything else. In fact, it's… eh, well, that's something best left unsaid."

Wilma just glared at me, and then said, "Well, that was helpful."

"I'm sorry Wilma, but as I've said before, I really can't sugarcoat stuff like this." I replied.

"Yeah, I know. But even if the schooling wasn't the issue, how am I going to make a living out here? I'm not really good at anything!"

"That's not true. You are good with dogs; I mean, look at how well you and Sven get along! I even heard that you had befriended that Rottweiler back at the Howl House a few days ago!"

"I guess. But even then, I just don't know if I can get used to a community like this. I don't mean in a bad way, but it took me some time to establish friendships back at my old home. In a place like this, it could take me forever!"

"Not unless you make the effort. I'm sure you can find friends, no matter where you look. And besides, if it's that's such an issue, why not go back home?"

"I've thought about that, but why would I want to? Do I really want to go back home and be seen as a disgrace and a failure by my mother, my former friends, my former boyfriend, my teachers, and my coaches? If I do that, it would be about as sad a fate as anything out there in the world."

"I doubt that would be true. Most people would be willing to help people out in such dire straits. I mean, overall we tend to help each other out when someone is down and out. If it isn't our family and friends, there are plenty of others around that will do the job. Like me."

"Yeah, but I don't think you could help me out with something like this. I've got two possible paths to take, both of which suck. And I don't know which one would work out best."

I sat and looked out the window, recollecting the words Derek has told me earlier in the day. _I totally understand what you are going through, Wilma._ I thought as I looked out into the darkness. _Sweet religion do I ever know what you have to think about. At least you don't have to worry about a half-brother who torments you mercilessly, but I know that anything outside of death can be overcome. I'm living proof of it. Now I want you to be a part of it, and I know how it can be done._ I then turned back to Wilma and said, "I can understand how you feel Wilma. This is just a usual part of life, and as long as you make happiness out of the choices you have, everything will be alright in the end." After I finished, remembering the deal I had made with everyone in Heatherfield, I thought, _As long as you return home. Everyone there misses you._

Wilma looked at me and said, "Well, that's all good when saying it, but how can anyone put into practice? I must have gone over the pros and cons a hundred times, and about the only thing I can figure out is how to become a nervous wreck!"

"I wish you wouldn't think so hard about this, Wilma." I answered. "Sometimes the best answers, especially of this sort, are to take a step back and not think about it."

"How is that supposed to help me? The problem will sit around unresolved if I do that!"

I was starting to get a little frustrated hearing this, and I said, "Listen, Wilma. We all have hard questions to answer, and when one method doesn't work…" But then I stopped. It was both due to my general concern for her welfare, but also because I remembered something. It was in regards to the Whitesage Spiritual Therapy center, where Sharon Walls was one of the administrators. _They have forms of aquatic therapy over there._ I thought. _Maybe that's the thing that can uncork Wilma's mental blockage._ I then said, "Maybe there is a way I can help your issue out. Not directly, but I know someone who can."

"You do?" Wilma asked.

"Yes. Orin's wife, Sharon, is one of the administrators of a spiritual therapy center, and some of the therapies they offer there are aquatic in nature."

"Really? What else do you know about this place?"

"I'm not sure that I'm the best person to answer those questions. Let's wait until Sharon comes home, and you can ask her. From there maybe I can schedule some therapies for you tomorrow."

Wilma seemed quite a bit happier to hear this, and nodded her head in acceptance of the idea. With that, I got up from the couch and got a drink of water. It would be a little while before Sharon would return home.

At about 9:15 PM, Wilma and I decided to go pay the Walls' another visit. I figured that she would be well-established at that time to provide the answers Wilma was going to ask her, though I hoped that whatever questions she had were not that numerous.

As was before, Robert reached the door first when I knocked on it. "Oh hi Arthur. Is there something that you need?" he asked.

"Yes. Is your Mom around? A student from outside of town wishes to talk to her about the spiritual therapy center and the services provided." I answered.

"I'll see if I can get her." And with that, Robert left to go get Sharon. Both of us were reluctant to step inside as we had not been given permission to do so, but it was still a bit damp outside, and while we had both brought umbrellas, we really didn't want to use them.

Thankfully, it didn't take long before Sharon showed up, a little tired but nonetheless wanting to talk about her business. "Hi Arthur. You said that you wanted to talk to me about therapies?" she said as she got to the open door.

"No, it's not me. It's the student that your husband took to that job shadow earlier today." I replied. "I had told her about your place and she just wants to ask some questions about some of the therapies you offer."

"I see. Oh well, I was hoping that you would schedule something. I guess I can't have everything." Sharon said, sounding disappointed.

"Actually, I was thinking about signing up for some therapies, once I know about them." Wilma said. At this Sharon perked up a bit and said, "Well, that changes things quite a bit. Why don't you two come inside? It might rain again. We can go to the dining area to talk about this." So we stepped inside and we walked over to the kitchen/dining room, where we all took a seat.

"So, what therapies do you want to know about?" Sharon asked Wilma, once we had all gotten situated.

"Well, Arthur told me about your place and the services it provides. In particular, I'm interested in some of the aquatic therapies you have available." Wilma answered.

"The Whitesage Spiritual Therapy center offers a number of aquatic therapy options, but before I go into them, I would like to know if you've been involved with aquatic therapies in the past."

"This is actually the first time I've heard of them, so I don't know what is available to me."

"That's fine. A lot of outsiders answer that way. A good place to start would be the use of a float tank."

"What's that?"

"In essence, it's an enclosed tank that contains a little water mixed in with enough Epsom salts to allow people to float on its surface. A person simply climbs into the tank and floats on the surface of the salt-filled water. It's primarily a means to allow people to de-stress, though it can also be used to boost both academic and athletic performances."

"How long does such a floatation set last?"

"About an hour."

"What are some other aquatic therapies you offer?"

"The other form of aquatic therapy we offer is called Watsu."

"And what is that?"

"It's a form of aquatic massage therapy in which a person is guided on the surface of the water by a trained practitioner. Much like with the float tank, it's a means to de-stress."

"I see. How long does this last?"

"Like with the float tank, it lasts about an hour."

"Is it possible to me to sign up for both of these things?"

"Of course. As hard as it is to believe, there are openings for both forms of therapy tomorrow evening. Now, since you seem a bit young, I'll need a release form signed by a guardian." Sharon then turned to me and said, "Did she get permission to do this?"

"Yes, she did." I said. I hoped that it would be OK with Susan, but at that moment, anything that could help Wilma feel better about her would be worth the time and the expense.

"Very well. Here is the paper; if you two could sign it, I can then get it processed and we can go from there." She then produced a paper that had a bunch of disclaimers and the like, along with a pen. After thoroughly reading through the paper, I nodded my head in compliance and signed it. I then passed it on to Wilma, who then signed it. She then gave it back to Sharon, who looked at it and said, "Everything looks in order. Good! Come over at 7:00 PM and we can get you taken care of."

"Sounds good, but are there any precautions I should take into account?" Wilma asked.

"Not much." Sharon said. "Obviously you'll need a swimsuit for both of these things, but I'm pretty sure you knew that. Also, don't eat anything in the hour before the therapies, and don't drink anything that has caffeine in it. Needless to say, alcohol and drugs are deeply frowned upon. Other than that, I'll provide you instruction as needed. And I hope you don't mind me being the administrator of your Watsu session."

"No, I don't mind at all." Wilma responded. "Well, I guess we better get going. I'll see you next evening."

"OK. Have a good evening!"

"You too." I said as we got up and left.

Back at my place, Wilma said, "I think I better get ready for bed."

"Yeah, it's getting kind of late. If you don't mind, I once again have things to attend to back downstairs." I said as I walked to my usual spot. "Call out if you need anything."

Pretty soon I was back in my office. I once again called up Susan to see how things were going, and made a note to talk to her about the therapies. After the obligatory hellos, I asked how things were going in Heatherfield. "Eh, reasonably well, in spite of the obvious." Susan answered. "I mean, I haven't heard anything significant worth telling you, at least not off of the top of my head. What about you?"

"Not much. Though Wilma seemed a bit conflicted about her situation. I couldn't tell if she was confused or homesick or what was going on in her head. Anyway, I hope you don't mind me taking her to participate in some aquatic therapies tomorrow so that she feels better."

"As long as you pay the bill, I don't mind."

"I was planning to pay the bill, so it shouldn't be an issue."

"Also, just out of curiosity, what are the aquatic therapies?"

"In her case, it'll be some time in a float tank and also a Watsu session."

"Hmm. I remember going through a phone book and seeing advertisings for both of those things in Heatherfield. Maybe if it works for Wilma, I should give them a try. Religion knows I need ways to deal with the day, especially after what's happened."

"I understand what you are saying. Anyway, if that all worth talking about, I guess I better let you go."

"OK, I'll talk to you later. Bye."

"Bye." After hanging up, I turned on the computer and checked my E-Mail. This time it was only Taranee that had sent word my way, and it wasn't what I wanted to hear…

Hi Arthur. Hopefully everything is going OK with you and Wilma.

I wish the same can be said over here, but it hasn't. We all remain upset with ourselves with what has happened, but no more so than with Cornelia. She thinks that everything that has happened is her fault, and since the news broke, she's spent much of her time in a depressed, weepy state. In fact, it's gotten so bad that she was sent home from school today because she was disturbing her classmates and teachers. I plan talking to Cornelia's parents tomorrow to see what I can do to help her out, but for right now the best I can do is to pray that she doesn't do anything stupid in the next couple of days.

Beyond that, I don't have too much else to say, so I leave it at that. If there's anything you wish to ask me, please don't hesitate to do so.

Sincerely, Taranee

To this, I wrote:

I got your message, Taranee. I'm sorry that Cornelia feels so bad. Perhaps you should go see her and give her this message…

Wilma is doing fine and will be returning home next weekend. In the meantime, don't worry about what happened. It's not your fault.

If there's anything I can do to help out, please let me know. Other than that, there's not much else to report, so I'll just leave it there and I'll talk to you tomorrow. And be sure to say hi to the other girls for me.

Sincerely, Arthur Addlestadt

After getting the message sent off, I turned off the computer and turned my attention towards getting ready for bed. It didn't take long for me to get everything taken care of, and as before, I was sacked out before I knew it.


	7. Chapter 7

Page 5

_Day 7_

I woke up to a second straight gray morning, which meant that there would likely be rain again in the forecast. After getting dressed, I went over to the kitchen area, where Wilma was sitting at the table, looking tired. "Had a hard time sleeping last night?" I asked as I went to grab the cereal.

"A little." Wilma answered. "I've had a lot to think about."

"Like what?"

"Oh, a whole assortment of things. The job shadows, the spiritual therapy center, your rock music story… it could go on forever. Maybe you had a point on thinking too hard on things."

"Well, better late than never to realize it."

Wilma just looked at me peculiarly, and then said, "Anyway, I don't know if you are the right person to ask about this, but I'll do so regardless. Besides float tanks and Watsu, what else is offered at the spiritual therapy center?"

"Well, as far as I know, besides those two things, they offer a Thai massage package, reiki sessions, and something called Waterdance. They also conduct classes on yoga and tai chi/qigong. There has been talk about expanding the services there, but I personally think that they have enough services there to begin with."

"What do you know about them?"

"Not much. I do know that the Thai massage package comes in three parts: first is the body massage, which is kind of like an assisted yoga session. Then there's the foot massage, which is pretty self-descriptive, though they also use an abrasive scrub to get rid of foot calluses and dead skin. Finally, there's the herbal portion, in which they massage you with a heated, porous pouch filled with various herbs. As for the rest, I don't know much else. You are better off asking Sharon about them."

"OK. But how do you know so much about the Thai massage package and not all of the rest?"

"Well… eh… I hate to admit it, but not long after I moved to Whitesage, after a few restless nights I decided to take up an offer for a Thai massage, believing it would be like a regular massage. Boy was I ever mistaken!"

Wilma almost cracked a smile when she heard that, and then she asked, "I'm taking that it wasn't an overly pleasant experience."

"Yeah." I replied. "I mean, I did feel better as a whole for quite some time. But the whole process made me feel like I went through a noodle extruder."

Once again, I kind of saw Wilma strain to keep herself from laughing about my massage misadventure. I then said, "Well, hopefully your swimsuit has dried out enough to be of use for later today."

"Oh yeah, it is. Having been swimming for years, I've learned a lot of things like that. I actually checked my swimsuit last night, and it has dried out."

"Good. And I'm pretty sure you remember not to eat anything before the therapies."

"I remember."

"OK. Well, I guess we better get to eating. We may not need to eat all that much, but we shouldn't starve ourselves." We then got to eating breakfast and the rest of the morning went by uneventfully. Soon enough, we were dressed, Sven was all leashed up, and out the door. I was quite happy that, this time, we both had umbrellas. It wasn't raining yet, but it looked like it could at any moment.

We arrived at the Co-op first, where I dropped off Wilma. I then dropped off Sven at the Howl House, and finally I made my way back to the Mystic's Emporium. I was quite surprised that it wasn't raining by the time I arrived there, but in any case I was glad I didn't need to use my umbrella.

The day as a whole was quite simple. There were more customers showing up than there had been, and a lot of religious materials came off the shelves. I didn't ask the consumers why they were buying such stuff, but I figured that the reason had to do with the Stupidian elections going on. Perhaps people were getting extremely nervous about the 'extension' results, and weren't taking chances to sway the election more into their favor. Or perhaps they were gathering up supplies to either spiritually protect Whitesage or curse Stupidia. Whatever it was, it was best for me not to know, lest I be the target of their potential wrath.

Eventually my time of work was done, and it was time to leave. I went off to the Howl House and picked up Sven, and then I returned home. I was quick to find Wilma sitting on the couch, looking quite ready to move onwards to the therapies. As soon as she was done petting and cuddling Sven, she turned to me and said, "I sure hope it won't take long for us to get to the Spiritual Therapy center, Arthur."

"It shouldn't. I mean, most of Whitesage is relatively easy to access on foot, and the rest can be reached via the bus transit." I said. "And we've got plenty of time to reach the place; we don't need to hurry. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to wash my hands and get some more money into my wallet." After saying that, I went into the upstairs bathroom, where I proceeded to clean my hands, and from there I headed downstairs to my office, where I collected enough money to make up for all of the expenses for the past few days and for those to come. I was not expecting to pay this much for the week with Wilma, but at least I knew how pricy it was to raise even a small family, and I had developed more respect and sympathy for Susan and what she was putting up with than I had before.

After gathering up the money, I went back upstairs to see Wilma playing with Sven. "Are you ready to go, Wilma?" I asked.

"Sure am. I've actually got my swimsuit on underneath my clothes, so I'll be ready to start as soon as I arrive." Wilma responded. She was obviously itching to get going for a long time.

"Well, go get your jacket on and as soon as I do so, we can get going." We then got our jackets on and after fetching Sven, who was still leased up (I was planning to have him come with us and to walk him about as the therapies were being conducted), we were on our way. As we walked, I asked, "So, how did the job shadow go?"

"Oh, it went well." Wilma answered. "I was quite amazed at everything they sell there, including some things I never imagined."

"Like what?"

"Well, the numerous breads, for one thing. I didn't think there was too much in regards to bread, but was a variety I wasn't expecting. They also had all sorts of really powerful-smelling soaps there, and I couldn't find a single thing that wasn't organic."

"Yeah, it's like that over there. In fact, it's like that in nearly every Co-op in existence from what I've heard. But since that is the only one I've ever been in, I can't know for certain." That was the end of the conversation for the two of us, and the rest of the walk went by quietly until we reached the Spiritual Therapy center.

The Spiritual Therapy center was hard to miss: compared to the rather drab buildings that were so commonplace throughout Whitesage, the Spiritual Therapy center looked like a cross between an English manor and a Greco-Roman temple. Also unique was how new the building was: it started construction in 1997 shortly after David Waychka took over as the figurehead. It was completed the next year, and despite its annotations, it was immediately popular with just about everyone. Knowing the services it offered, I could easily see why.

I walked with Wilma up the staircase, right up to the front door. I then tied off Sven's leash onto one of the hooks, and Wilma and I went inside. Unsurprisingly, Sharon was waiting for us in the lobby. "Oh good! You made it!" she said as we walked into the lobby's center. "Shall we get started?"

"Eh, before that, I would like to know about payment." I said. "Do you want me to pay now? Or later?"

"How about you pay after the services are rendered." Sharon suggested.

"That sounds fine with me. OK, I'll just be walking about town with Sven, but I'll be back in about two hours." As I turned back, I said, "Enjoy yourself, Wilma." To that, I heard Wilma say, "Thanks." I then was outside again, taking Sven's leash off the hook, and I was off, walking about.

For about the next hour and a half, Sven and I traversed every part of Whitesage. There wasn't a sight that we didn't see, though there were a few times where I stopped and had to think. The first of these being the ravine area where Sven led me to Wilma in the first place. There wasn't too much to think about, but I certainly felt bad for Wilma and the situations that led her into this mess. _I hope this never happens to anyone else again_. I thought as I tried to move on.

Then I moved into the school section of Whitesage. It was a place I rarely frequented, but perhaps unconsciously I made myself go there. I looked at the secondary school in particular, looking into the windows. There was some rooms lit up, though they were very dim; I figured that it was the janitorial staff cleaning up the place by candlelight or by oil lamp. But beyond that, I couldn't see much. For a moment, I thought, _What if you stay here, Wilma? You can't obviously get a job and hope for the best. You'll wind up back in school, and I don't think you'll be any happier here than you were back in Heatherfield. Especially with the way school is set up here._ Then, in the back of my mind, I saw her approaching the school building, extremely apprehensive about entering, but still going inside anyway. And then, for no apparent reason, I saw myself, roughly about Wilma's age, doing the same. _Why am I thinking like this?_ I thought as I watched myself stroll down the walkway towards the front doors. _I'm not getting any younger! In all honesty having to take care of Wilma, I'm getting older much faster!_ I turned back to Sven, who just looked at me as if I had lost my mind. I probably was, so we left the school section, with me still trying to clear my mind.

After that, Sven and I headed off to one of the small parks in my neighborhood. Being that it was at night, I was the only on there. I sat down at one of the gazebos and looked up towards the sky. It was no longer cloudy and I could see the stars across the horizon. But whereas it was a relaxing sight on most evenings, I could not settle down here. Maybe it was the thoughts back in the school area that was still bugging me. It was just hard to tell. I looked back at Sven, who had lain down on the gazebo floor. Then I pulled out the papers which Mrs. Rickenbacker has sent to me. Nothing had been completed, and I sadly figured that it never would be. My musings on the papers were interrupted when I heard some loud barking nearby. I looked up to see Verda and Jaspal walking through the park, and it looked to be Verda who spotted me first. Getting up from the bench and grabbing Sven's leash, I walked over to talk to Jaspal. "Oh hi Arthur." He said as I approached him. "Kind of odd for you to be out and about at this time."

"Yeah, I know." I replied. "But it couldn't be helped. I had to take my niece over to the Spiritual Therapy center to try and straighten her out."

"Oh? Is there something wrong with her?"

"Not anything unusual for an average teenager: she's just confused and fretful in regards to the situation that she's finding herself in, and I figured that the best way to help her was to send her there to fix her up. At least temporarily."

"I see. Hopefully whatever is bugging her will be resolved. I wouldn't want her feeling terrible and conflicted working in the kitchens tomorrow."

"Oh yeah, she'll be doing that as her final job shadow while she's here. Provided that tomorrow is her last day here." I said gloomly.

Jaspal kind of noticed that I was kind of out of sorts and said, "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, to be honest, I'm kind of worried that Wilma will want to stay here instead of returning home to her mother. She probably still thinks that going back to Heatherfield would be a fate worse than death, when in fact everyone there misses her terribly. One of her friends has been so distraught over her departure that she's liable to wind up in a mental hospital."

"If that's the case, why don't you tell her the truth?"

"If I do so, she'll never believe me. And that's just one issue: I feel somewhat responsible for creating the mess for not trying to prevent the marriage between Susan and Tony. And if she does decide to stay here, I can't help feeling that she is following in my footsteps, however unconsciously, by running away from the problems involving her."

"I still think it's best to tell her about these things. I know how hard it is to talk to teens about this; my nephew is testament to that fact. But I've always known, both on a religious stance and in a common-sense stance, that the truth is the best way forward, and the sooner you tell her about these things, the better the two of you will be, whatever happens."

"I sure hope so. I just don't want her to jump the shark again, like she did last week. It was already hard enough to explain things to everyone in Heatherfield once. I'd hate to do so twice."

"It probably won't happen like that, Arthur. Anyway, just be sure to tell her the truth before it's too late. Truth is eternal, life in all of its facets isn't. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to get back to the Tejawswini Palace. I'll see you sometime tomorrow."

"You too, Jaspal." I said as he walked away. I then started making my way back to the Spiritual Therapy center, trying to think about how best to apply his words to the situation. _If only it was easy to display the truth to Wilma without thinking of me being a giant liar._ I thought. _I just wish it wasn't me to deliver the facts._

Before I fully realized it, I was back at the Spiritual Therapy center, tying Sven's leash to one of the hooks and then walking inside. I was the only person in the lounge, and with no sight of either Sharon or Wilma, I sat down on the couch provided for whoever came by. There wasn't anything to read, so I had to make do with looking at the artworks on display, as well as keeping to my thoughts. They were all random thoughts, like in regards to the sales I made earlier that day, but every now and again a thought came into my head that revolved around Wilma, her mother, her friends, her boyfriend, and/or everyone else she left behind. I felt a sense of responsibility for all of it, as well as guilt. Whether or not it was the truth, I had the feeling that all of this mess was somehow connected to me and my inabilities to prevent Tony and Susan's marriage and the ruining of both Susan's and Wilma's lives a few years later. I didn't know if this was considered normal thought process for a parent, but if it was, it was certainly humbling.

All of that musing came to an end when I heard footsteps come from the hallway off onto the left side. A few seconds later, I saw both Sharon and Wilma emerge. Both were dressed as they were when I had arrived, but Wilma was noticeably different. For one thing, her hair was damp, much like it was when we left the RCA center swimming pool a few days ago; this did not take me by surprise. What did was her facial expression: unlike so much of the past few days, which showed at the very least indifference to the outside world, Wilma looked deeply relaxed, and with a big smile on her face. It was easily apparent that she really enjoyed the therapies administered to her. I then asked Sharon, "Do clients usually come out like this?"

"Sometimes." Sharon answered. "But that's not important. What is important is that things went extremely well."

"I can see that. So, do you want me to make the payment now, or will you send a bill my way? I think I can pay it right now, just to make life easier on us."

"That would be just fine. The overall cost is ¤95.000."

It was an awful lot, but I had the money at hand, so I pulled out the currency and got it paid out. With that, I then turned to Wilma, who at a glance looked as if she was about to melt. "Well, I've paid everything. We better get going." I said to her.

Wilma slowly turned towards me, and softly said, "Oh. I… see. If we… have to." She kind of sounded as if she wanted to stay here, but at the same time, she sounded as if she knew that it was time to carry on and she accepted that. We then made our way out, and as I did so I said to Sharon, "Thanks for everything. Bye." We stopped then to take Sven's leash off of the hook, and we made our way down the sidewalk back to my place.

As we walked, I asked Wilma, "So, how were the therapies?"

"Oh. Those things. I… I… can't describe… it. I feel… liberated. Separated from… sadness. It was… something that I… wanted to last… forever." Wilma slowly stuttered. "Everyone… needs… to experience… what I… went through."

I acknowledged that fact, but I still didn't know if it helped her make up her mind about everything going on about her. At any rate, it at least brought an end to the stress that was wrecking her composure.

Eventually, the three of us got back home, and I unleashed Sven who quickly got onto his cushion and curled up for sleep. I turned to Wilma and said, "I'm heading downstairs to take care of some things. Call me out if you need anything."

"Oh, don't worry… about me. I'll probably… go straight to… bed." Wilma said. "And… Arthur… one thing."

"And what's that?"

"Thanks so much… for the therapy… idea."

I halfway smiled for hearing that, and I replied, "Your welcome. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going downstairs." I got downstairs and into my office, where I called Susan. After the usual greetings, I asked her how things were going. "Reasonable. It was actually kind of a long day for me, with all of the work going on. Just out of curiosity, how was your work?"

"Hard. We had an awful lot of sales, much of it devoted to spell-casting. And before you ask, no, I don't know the reasoning behind the purchases, nor do I want to know." I, of course, was lying a bit, but it was best not to get into the theories involved.

"OK. What about Wilma?"

"Oh, she's just peachy. She took part in the therapies I told you about last night, and I've never seen her so relaxed and happy. It's too early to tell what effect the therapies will have on her, but so far the effects have been very positive."

"Well, that's good to know. Now that you mention it, I did come across a place in Heatherfield that offers such therapies you mentioned. Maybe I should start taking part in these things."

"If you want to, Susan. Other than that, is there anything else worth noting in Heatherfield?"

"Not that I can recall."

"OK, I better let you go. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"All right. Bye."

"Bye." After hanging up, I turned on my computer and checked my E-Mail. As like with the phone calls, Taranee had sent out another message…

Hi Arthur. I hope everything is going OK where you are. You are probably better than I am, knowing how lonely it's been without Wilma. She was the first true friend I made here in Heatherfield, after all.

We are all looking forward to seeing Wilma return this weekend. And for me and the rest of her friends, it can't be a moment too soon. Cornelia, in particular, has been so upset about the whole thing that she refuses to leave her bedroom and has not been eating all that much. Obviously, she's still blaming herself for the incident, and it's gotten to the point that only by seeing Wilma right in front of her will snap her out of this stupor.

I guess that's all for now.

Sincerely, Taranee

After reading that, I turned off the computer and made my way upstairs. I could hear Wilma sleeping when I got towards the bathroom. Once there, I got my teeth cleaned and I then went to bed. The last thing I remember before my eyes closed completely was one last thought towards Wilma: _Please, return home._


	8. Chapter 8

Page | 15

_Day 8_

The start of the 8th day was anything but normal compared what I was used to. Getting up, I was expecting what was now becoming routine: I would find Wilma half-asleep at the kitchen table and I would start getting all of the things we would need for cereal. Instead, I saw Wilma playing with Sven, and the kitchen table had everything already set out. It was stunning if only for the fact that Wilma had done little in front of me the past few days except playing with Sven.

As I stared about, wowed by the work she had done, Wilma looked up at me. She smiled and said, "Good morning Arthur."

As unarmed as I was, I was more so after hearing Wilma say that. It sounded energetic, a stark contrast to the days beforehand. Not knowing what else to do, I said, "Good morning… Wilma. I… see you have breakfast ready."

"Oh yeah, I got stuff out not too long ago, but I wanted to wait until you got up. I've just been playing with Sven until that happened."

"I see. I'll go serve myself then, if you don't mind."

"That's fine. I need to wash my hands anyway."

With that she headed to the bathroom, and I turned towards the kitchen table, where I got my cereal and juice prepared. As I began to eat, I thought, _Now what's gotten into her this time? I hope she didn't get a hold of something that got her brain warped!_

All of that musing had to be silenced when she reappeared. She sat down at the table and began serving herself some cereal and started eating. And whereas in the past she ate stuff a bit slowly, she was halfway inhaling her food. She was already halfway done when she said, "This is the new stuff you got from the Co-op, right?"

"Yes, it is." I answered. "Eh, I'm seeing that you got a good night's sleep last night."

"Oh, did I ever! I don't think I've ever slept that good in my life! It was like going on some sort of blissful jog. And when I got up, I didn't reel run down at all! I mean, I guess a bit of it can be attributed to the fact that I always had to get up early for school for a swim meet, but perhaps for the first time ever I've slept without anything preoccupying me."

"Do you think the therapies you partook in helped out?"

"Oh certainly. I know that I was a bit loopy afterwards, but during those therapies, I felt as if all of the things I had been pining on before got put into focus and in a different light. Everything began to make sense for once, and I could deal with it, and I didn't need to think about them as much anymore."

"Like with the swim team issue."

"Exactly."

"By the way, in regards to the swim team issue, have you made a decision about it?"

"Not really. But I'm leaning more towards your feelings, Arthur. Providing, of course, I want to return home."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that, if given the option, I would much rather stay here than return home. It's a wonderful place compared to where I came from."

This obviously worried me. After all, Susan would be coming to pick her up tomorrow, and I didn't want any weird sort of complication to rise out of her new mindset. _I hope I can snap her out of this mindset before tomorrow._ I thought as I took a quick glance out the window, as if Susan was about to show up at any moment. _Maybe I can ask her about her feelings in regards to her friends and mother, and what it means if she leaves them behind for good._ To that thought, I said, "Eh, why don't you think about it a bit more before you make such a significant decision."

"I guess it wouldn't hurt to think about it a bit more." Wilma replied. "But it's kind of hard to imagine me living anywhere else. I mean, my mother and my former friends don't see the world the same way I do now. In fact, I don't think any of them would've even noticed my departure."

_That's not fact, Wilma_. I thought. _They would all give up everything they own, just to have you back_.But before I could finish with my thought, I heard a knocking on the door. It was odd, since it was fairly early in the morning. Nevertheless, I wiped down my chin and said, "Hold on, Wilma. Let me see who it is." I then got up and went to the door. To my surprise, it was Father Mannahan. I felt that it was weird for him to stop by, but I perhaps realized that he was here to see how things were going. Not wanting to reveal anything I myself didn't want to say, I quickly said, "Oh hi. Is… it… OK if we take it outside for a moment?" Father Mannahan was a bit confused by my response, but agreed. I then turned to Wilma and I said, "I hope you don't mind, but my pastor and I need to go outside to talk about some things. I'll be right back." Wilma looked just as confused as Father Mannahan did, but also agreed to it. I then stepped outside and closed the door behind me. "Is there something wrong, Arthur?" Mannahan asked.

"No. I just don't want you to refer to Wilma as my niece, if that's what you'd be implying." I answered.

"Eh… Arthur… I thought that would be one of the first things you would do. You know that it's considered impious to lie like that."

"Well, I didn't mean to. She just hates being called my niece, even if it's technically true. And for that matter, I don't want to be the target of all of the problems she has suffered through her life."

"I see. I still don't like it, though. As a pastor, I know for a fact that lies are generally harmful, even when they are done with good intent. Sooner, rather than later, you'll have to tell her the truth."

"Yeah, that's what Jaspal told me last night. And I'm still looking for a good way to do so. I hope I can find a way before the day is out."

"For the sake of Jesus, I hope so too."

After a short, awkward break, I then said, "If you want to come in and meet Wilma, you are more than welcome to."

"I would like to, actually." Mannahan said. So I then opened up the door and ushered into the house. I soon followed, closing the door behind me soon after. Wilma once again looked a bit confused, unsurprising since she wasn't expecting me to bring this guest into my house. Seeing her a bit unnerved, I quickly said, "Wilma, allow me to introduce you to my pastor, Father Mannahan. He was one of the first people to show me around Whitesage when I moved here."

"Hi." Wilma said, looking a bit embarrassed for some reason. "Sorry if I'm not properly dressed. Arthur and I just got up not too long ago."

"Oh, that's fine." Mannahan responded. "If you wish to change, go right ahead."

"Maybe I should just go get changed right now. I'm already close to finishing my breakfast anyway." She then turned her attention to her bowl of cereal, in which she finished off the last bits in the bowl and then drank up the milk that was left. She then turned back to the two of us and said, "If you don't mind, I'm going to change."

"Go right ahead." I said. With that, Wilma walked out of the dining area and towards the study. After we heard the door close, Father Mannahan turned back to me and said, "Well, she seems quite energetic this morning. Not anything like a girl who has all of the problems you described several days ago."

"Actually, she has been a bit sluggish up to this point." I answered. "I'm still trying to figure out how she got so energetic, and all I can think of is all of the work she got from the Spiritual Therapy center last night."

"Oh. I guess that could explain it. I wouldn't rely on that as the diagnosis, though."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, from my own experiences as a pastor, I know that people can change inexplicably for a number of reasons and even for no reason at all. It may be that whatever was done to her last night may have had an effect on her mental and spiritual wavelengths, but exactly what caused this change is probably not directly attributed to it."

"Maybe." It was hard for me to get a full answer out; what Father Mannahan said to me didn't exactly sit well with my brain, and it was taking all of my mental energy just to comprehend what was just told to me. All of that was quickly pushed to the back when Wilma came out. Interestingly, she has come out in the same clothes in which I had first found her. "Eh, Wilma? I hate to be rude, but aren't those clothes unwashed?" I asked.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. In the day where you dropped me off at the Howl House for my job shadow, after walking Sven home, I gathered up my dirty clothes and got them washed." Wilma said. "So that explains why I'm wearing this." After a short pause, she then said, "You know, it's actually quite interesting on how the Laundromat is set up. I mean, I've never heard of the detergents used here, and I've never known that you can put borax and baking soda into the wash."

"That's been known for a long time." Mannahan said. "In fact, borax and baking soda were the usual materials used to clean clothes until modern detergents replaced them; nowadays they are seldom-used additives."

"You used them before?"

"A few times. Normally I don't use them, but there were a few times I needed them." Wanting to change the subject, Father Mannahan then said, "So Wilma, since you've arrived here, what has been your feelings about Whitesage?"

"Oh, it's wonderful!" she said with a bit of exuberance. "I mean, it's a little bit on the oddball side, but this place is by far the greatest place I've ever spent significant time in, outside of the Bahamas when I was five years old. And almost everyone here seems so nice and supportive, especially Arthur."

"Well, I'm glad that you are enjoying yourself here." Mannahan responded. "I figured that Arthur had things running smoothly, once I heard about your plight. But I thought that I would show up anyway, just to make sure. I hope you didn't mind that."

"Oh, of course not. But you know… I hope this doesn't sound weird coming out of my mouth… isn't it kind of awkward to live in a place where you don't belong? You know, with your position…"

"Yeah, I admit that I feel out of place in a town that is dominated by Neo-Pagans. Of course, back when I first came here, it was a lot worse with the entire social stigma going on about Christianity and its relatives. Nowadays, people are more accepting of me and those I represent, though we have some ways to go. I'm sure you understand that sentiment, Wilma."

"Yes. Though I doubt I ever was accepted back at home, at least not the way I wanted it to be. They all had expectations set up they knew I couldn't reach. Here, I don't feel as if I need to please anybody, and I can go about my business freely. It's truly a wonderful place, and I wish other places in the world would take notice of how it works."

"Perhaps, as long as they acknowledge that it too has had its moments. I bet Arthur has already told you about the history of this place."

"He has."

"Good. I just don't want you to get any possibly harmful thoughts developing." Mannahan said. As he said this, he turned to me and had a look on his face that said _I hope you listening to this, too._ I felt a little guilty for having been looked at like that, even though it was warranted, but I couldn't work up the nerve to say the words everyone wanted to pull out of my head. Wilma noticed this too, and with that she asked, "Is there something wrong?"

"Eh… Nothing directly concerning me. It is directly concerning Arthur, however."

"What would that be?"

"He'll explain it to you. At least, I hope he does. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to return to the church. Other people may be needing of my capabilities."

"I see. Well, it was nice talking to you."

"It was nice talking to you too, Wilma." With that, Father Mannahan got up and made his way to the door, giving me a brief glance as he walked past. He let himself out and said, "Have a good day everyone."

"Same to you." I answered. But I knew that it would be much harder to achieve that state after that discussion. I then gathered up the food and began to put things away. All the time, I thought, _Geez, how anal can you all be about opening my mouth? All of this time, I have been trying to separate myself from my past, and now all of you want me to talk about it, as if I can magically cleanse the world around me! How am I supposed to do that without bringing about a misery I lived during my adolescence and what Wilma was living through just recently? I can't risk something like that!_

Once again, Wilma noticed this and she said, "Is everything OK, Arthur? You seem worried."

"I guess you can say that." I responded. "I just have a lot to think about."

"Is it about the thing the pastor said you needed to say?"

I cringed a little bit when Wilma said that, because it was the truth. But I still didn't feel comfortable enough to say the truth. So I answered, "Yes. But… it doesn't concern you. So don't get too bothered by it."

Wilma didn't seem to believe my explanation, but she seemed accepting not to dig deeper. She then got up and said, "Do you need any help with the dishes?"

"No. I've got it." I answered

"OK. I'll just be playing with Sven, in case you need me." With that, she walked over to Sven and began playing with him. He needed, since he looked rather spooked when Father Mannahan had arrived.

After a little while, I was done with the dishes. I then made my way to my bedroom to gather up my clothes for the day, and I then went to the bathroom to shower. Nothing unusual happened during those times, though I had that lingering feeling that, someone was judging me, if only unconsciously.

Before long, the two of us were out the door and on our walk to our destinations. As usual, the Howl House was our first stop, having to drop off Sven. Then we made our way to the Tejawswini Palace, where Jaspal was cleaning off one of the outside tables. "Ah, Arthur! Wilma! I was wondering when you'd arrive." He said once he saw us. "I was wondering if you two had forgotten the plan."

"Nope. We didn't." Wilma said. "Do you need any help with that table?"

"I see that you are more than ready to work this morning. Sure, I wouldn't mind having an extra pair of hands with this work. There isn't too much else to do yet, anyway." Jaspal then turned to me and said, "I think we've got it taken care of from here. If something comes up, I'll be sure to call you."

"Thanks, Jaspal. Enjoy the job assessment, Wilma." I said.

"I will." Wilma said. I then turned away and walked to the Mystic's Emporium, ready to start another day at work.

Much like the day before, work was steady, but it was also a bit disturbing. Once again, the things people were buying were religious materials, and it was now a bit more clear about the purposes they would be used: about halfway through the workday, Bryan was approached by a woman in her 40s who seemed at little bit out of it. She asked, "Where do you keep the spiritual protection materials?"

Bryan looked up from a spreadsheet and said, "Well, it depends on what you are looking for. Is there anything in particular you are looking for?"

"Everything. I don't care what it is, I'll take a bit of everything." The woman said. "Anything to keep Stupidian influences at bay."

"I guess we can start with certain incense blends. And from there we can take a look at ritual offerings." The woman didn't seem to be more at ease when she heard this, and when it was all said and done, she had indeed purchased a little bit of everything, namely incense and oils. In a way, I felt bad for her since she was dealing with possibly a world-changing event in the following weeks, with no obvious way to deal with it. But I also felt as if she and others were wasting their time, as the chance of their fears coming to pass was miniscule, even with the precautions taken.

More ominously was part of a discussion I overheard between two young men passing by. Both appeared to be in their 30s, or even in their late 20s. I only caught the end of the conversation, but it sounded like, "I don't want to be alive if it becomes reality." I was quickly reminded about Derek's words about misery, but even more quickly, they were taken over by Wilma's voice, first by her anger towards those comments, and then by her insistence not to talk about death, especially suicide. All of this didn't sit well with me, but I knew that this was old hat for someone like me. Whether Wilma would accept this was beyond me, but it was more ammo for me to get her back home.

Yet the strangest part of the day came about an hour after lunch, and it didn't involve my work at all: I got a call from Jaspal, which at first worried me. I initially thought that something horrible had happened to Wilma, but what I heard was a bit of surprise: "I don't mean to be rude or anything, but is it OK if Wilma stays over at the Tejawswini Palace until 7:00 PM?" He said.

"Why?" I asked. "Is there something wrong with Wilma?"

"No. It's just that one of the cooks got sick, and we were already a bit short-staffed to begin with. Besides that, Wilma has been one major bundle of energy since she arrived here."

"What do you mean by that?"

"She seems to be doing everything at warp speed, it's absolutely unreal! The gurus themselves would be dumbfounded by the pace and accuracy in which she is working!"

"But I don't know if she knows how to cook."

"Oh, she volunteered for it. I can't possibly turn down something like that. So, with your permission, will you allow Wilma to work extra time here?"

"I guess so. But let her go back to my place if she tires out, OK?"

"I understand. Enjoy the rest of the day, Arthur."

"Same to you, Jaspal. Bye." I then heard the phone click, and I followed suit. _Geez, Wilma. Are you sure you didn't take something you shouldn't have?_ I thought as I got back to work. _At this rate, you might spontaneously combust!_

The rest of the day was standard fare, and soon enough, I was on my way back to the Howl House to pick up Sven. As I got him leashed up, Rebecca asked, "Are you OK, Arthur? You looked concerned."

"Maybe a little bit." I answered reluctantly. "This is supposed to be Wilma's last day here, and I need to convince her to return home. Otherwise, she might decide to stay here, in spite of the fact that she would be sorely missed."

"Oh, that sort of thing."

"Yeah. It'll soon be the end of the evening, and I still don't know the best way to tell her this."

"Well, I'm not the best person to talk to for something of this matter. All I can say is to tell it to her straight up and go from there."

"I see. Here, let me get your payment." After paying Rebecca, I left, but not before I heard her say, "Good luck with Wilma."

I waved, signifying that I understood what she said. As I walked home, I then said under my breath, "I'll need it."

I was soon back home, at around 7:30 PM. I didn't know if anyone was inside, knowing how late Wilma had been working. So I began knocking on the door to see if she had arrived. After the third knock, I heard a shout from off to the side: "Arthur! I'm coming!" I looked off to my left and I saw Wilma, carrying two large bags of what I assumed to be Indian food, an assumption that was quickly confirmed by the unmistakable smell of garam masala.

"I see that you got some grub, Wilma." I commented.

"I sure did. Jaspal told me to take some food with me. He said it was kind of a reward for my hard work at the Tejawswini Palace for today. I hope you don't mind mater paneer and dal makhani; I just thought those looked the best to me."

"That's fine with me, though I take it that there's naan and rice in there too."

"Of course. He insisted upon it."

"Excellent." I said as I opened the door. Wilma set the food onto the table and went to get the plates whereas I took Sven off of his leash and washed my hands. When I came out of the bathroom, Wilma had almost completely set the table, save for the water in the cups. Once again, I was stunned to see Wilma getting stuff done so quickly. _OK, you need to give yourself a break. Seriously!_ I thought. But instead, I said, "You know, Wilma, you can relax a little bit. You don't need to set the table; I can take care of that."

"Oh. OK. You can finish up here. I'll just play with Sven for a while." Wilma answered. She then made her way to Sven, where I went and finished getting the table put together, which didn't take long for me to do. Wilma, seeing that supper was ready, cleaned her hands and sat down.

Both of us quickly got down to the meal, which was fairly spicy. After about a few bites, I asked Wilma, "So how did work go today?"

"Oh, it was outstanding." Wilma answered. "I did just about everything, including how to cook the foods served. I was especially impressed with the Tandoori ovens they had in the kitchen and how they worked. And I'm still in awe in all of the peppers they used in the cooking."

"In terms of numbers or in terms of spiciness?"

"Both. I mean, there must have been a dozen different types of peppers, most of them very potent. They kind of reminded me of the Szechwan and Yellow Emperor peppers used to make Chinese hot sauces."

"I see. I'll just have to take your word for it because it's been a long time since I've been to a Chinese eatery. I do know of a place in the area, but I've never eaten there. Anyway, you can thank Gurneet, Jaspal's wife, for the peppers, she personally grows them."

"I already did, actually. She helped me out whenever Jaspal wasn't available."

"That was definitely nice of her."

We continued eating for a little while, and then Wilma said, "There was one thing that did take me by surprise when I was there."

"Oh? How so?" I asked, curious on what had happened.

"Well, it was about two, maybe three hours before the supper would start being prepared. Jaspal was going through one of those large fridges that other kitchens have. He pulled out a large load of meats, and then he headed to a back room. As he was making his way over there, he told me that it would be getting a little noisy. I took him at his word, but I wasn't expecting a racket like that of an avalanche!"

I knew exactly what she was talking about: Jaspal had a stationary bike in the back of the restaurant which was connected to a revolving barrel filled with roughly 50 ball bearings. To save time tenderizing the meats, he would put them into heavy-duty bags and place them into the barrel, and from there he would ride the bike for a good 15-20 minutes. Even with foam padding on both the inside and outside of the barrel, it still caused a major ruckus every time it got started up. "So, what happened?" I asked, even though I knew the answer.

"Well, I took off to the room Jaspal had gone into, and he was on a stationary bike that was connected to a barrel full of steel balls and a few bags. He saw me not long after I came in, and he dimly said to me, 'I told you that there would be a lot of noise.' I then asked him what he was doing, and he explained the whole device to me and its purpose. Then he went back to spinning up the barrel, and I returned to the kitchen."

I simply looked towards Wilma with about as good of a blank expression as I could muster. Seeing this, Wilma said, "Well, it's the truth! Ask him any time…"

"Oh, I believe you, Wilma. It's… just… kind of weird." I responded. "I've always known him as a bit of a tinkerer, but never to that extent. Perhaps that's why all of the meats there have a tendency to almost melt into your mouth, whenever I decide to eat meat."

"I understand what you are saying; I actually had a piece of chicken afterwards, and I swear it was ready to go down the hatch after chewing it just once! Of course, I didn't do that, but it certainly felt like that."

Finally, just as we were finishing up the meal, Wilma said, "So, how was work today?"

"Eh… I… Well…" I stuttered, since I wasn't expecting that to come out of her mouth. I eventually got my act together and I said, "It was pretty typical for this time of year. There were certainly a lot of sales of ritual goods: incense, oils, that sort of thing."

"Hmm. I wonder why that is."

"It's almost all due to the Samhein festivities taking place at the end of the month. Whereas most people see it as a time to party, roam about, and eat candy, it's an important religious date by the Neo-Pagan tradition."

"I see. What happens during such festivities?"

"Eh, once again I'm not the best person to talk to for that sort of thing. You are better off reading a book about that sort of thing."

"Eh, I'd rather talk to an actual Neo-Pagan, to be honest with you."

"That's another option. It's actually perhaps the better option knowing how many live here."

Wilma halfway smirked when I said that, and without saying anything we headed to the sink to clean off the dishes. Once that was done, Wilma went into the main room to play with Sven, whereas I went to get my hands clean.

Once I had my hands clean, I ventured out into the main room and sat down next to Wilma. She was scratching behind Sven's ears, something that he really liked. I had a hard time looking at them, as it reminded me of my mission, and the unpleasantness it would bring. Wilma sensed my lack of ease, looked over to me and said, "Is there something wrong? It looks as if something is eating at you."

"No. Not really." I answered. "I'm just really tired, that's all. I'm kind of surprised you aren't as tired as I considering all of the work you did."

"Perhaps it's a latent effect of the therapies I received last night. Or it could be that I really wanted to work in the kitchen. Whatever it was, I probably could've stayed there and worked overnight if I had wanted to."

"Eh… Yeah." I went back to staring out the window, and then I heard Wilma say, "I've made up my mind, Arthur. I'm going to stay here."

I was quickly jolted out of my stupor, and I stared at Wilma, halfway in shock. "Did I hear you correctly?" I said. "You… you want to STAY here?"

"Yes! This place is at least a hundred times better than my old place. And everyone seems so nice. How could anyone NOT want to live here?"

"Quite a few, actually. But still, I don't think that's overly doable. Knowing how old you are, you'll have to go to school, and religion knows what would happen down that path."

"Oh, I'm sure you can work something out. And if I have to go back to school, it won't be the end of the world. I'll probably find much better friends than those that ditched me."

"Wilma… I…" I almost wanted to throw up, but I kept myself from doing so. I eventually gathered up my wits and I said, "Wilma, I know that this sounds utterly ludicrous, but I really think that it's in your best interest to return home."

Wilma was completely bewildered and flustered when I said that, and she was trying to find words to speak. Eventually, she said, "ARE YOU NUTS? I can't go back… there! It's… not even considerable!"

"Yes, it is. And as much as you think otherwise, it's probably the best option out there."

"But I have no friends out there! At least not those who think of me as garbage! And you've been like a father to me that actually cares about me, compared to what I use to have as parents!"

Once again, I winched after hearing that, knowing how close to home that comment was. And once again, I had to gather up wits, and then I said, "Eh… Wilma… I don't mean to be rude, but after you said that, it kind of made me sick. It's more true than you might imagine."

"Oh don't get me started on this whole 'niece' thing again!" Wilma snapped. "I'm in no way related to you! Otherwise, I would've run away again!"

"Wilma, please. I… listen. If you… can give me a moment, I think I can… explain."

"OK, go ahead. Explain it to me."

"Well… I… I can't explain it with just words Wilma; you'll never believe me. If you could wait here for a moment, I… can get some things that can tell you the whole story."

"All right. I'll wait here." Wilma then looked out of the window and pouted out of frustration. Reluctantly, I made my way downstairs and into my office area. There, I began to rummage through all of the old belongings that I had stored away, hoping that they would be buried in dust and forgotten by the passage of time. But I knew that, in the current situation that was impossible. They had to be excavated in order to show off the truth.

After digging around what felt like a week, I pulled out all of my yearbooks. Then I turned to the picture of Tony and Susan's wedding, the last link I had to my old life. As I looked at it, I grumbled, "Nice going, Tony. You've ruined two lives thanks to your efforts. Again." It would have been nice to have torn the picture to shreds, but I decided to take it with me as well. With all of that in hand, and with a heavy heart, I made my way out of the basement and up the ramp.

I found Wilma still looking out of the window, and still pouting. Sven had gotten into her lap and was whining, as if to show empathy towards her. It was very much reminiscent of the event that took place just a week earlier, only this time in plain sight of the lights of my home. After noting this, I plopped the books and picture onto the cushion beside her. "Here is what you need to see." I said.

Wilma looked over to me and said, "Seriously Arthur? I'm not about to look at…" she stopped for a moment as she looked more closely at the stack in front of her. She then picked up the picture lying on top of the books and, after examining it, said, "That's… that's the same picture that my mother used to have. How'd you get a hold of this?"

"My mother gave it to me." I explained. "I didn't want to accept it, but I was too polite to say no. And for the record, I didn't go to that wedding. Everyone there wouldn't hear the end of it if I was there."

"I… hey, these are the same yearbooks my mother has. All of them. How did you get a hold of these?"

"Because I went to the same school as your mother did. And I graduated the same year your mother graduated."

Wilma was utterly dumbstruck by this. I couldn't even begin to describe how she looked as she split her time staring at both me and then at a yearbook. Eventually, she came across the book of my freshman year, where after looking at the book for a short time, she said, "That's weird. I can't find you in your freshman yearbook."

"Oh, I'm there. Look for me in the C section." I answered, my voice full of hesitance and guilt. Confused, Wilma flipped a few pages and studied the contents. She then looked up at me and said, "I still can't find you, Arthur."

"Find your good-for-nothing father. Then look to the left of him."

Wilma then looked again into the book. She then looked slightly to the left, and then after a few seconds, her eyes got really big, and shock once again overtook her face to such an extent that she began to go pale. With a shaky voice, she said, "You… used to be Arthur Cannings! That means… you really… ARE related to me!"

"Well, yes and no. Yes, I shared the same last name as he did, but we aren't related." I said. "We used to be half-brothers for a few years. And then everything went down the toilet, taking too many people along with it. Including you."

"What? Eh… why do you say that?"

"Wilma, there's an awful lot I need to tell you about my past, none of which I want to talk about. But knowing what has been going on in your life for the past decade or so, it's extremely important I tell you."

"Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt, at least anymore than what I've normally heard."

I sighed a bit, trying hard not to be miserable about the endeavor I was going to partake in, and I started talking.

"First off, Wilma, you must understand that, in the beginning, I wasn't always Arthur Addlestadt or Arthur Cannings. I actually began life as Arthur Portis Lippett, the only son of Wallace Lippett and Heather Addlestadt." I said. "And as far as my life began, it was pretty typical for a little boy in the Atlantic portion of Canada in the 1960s. It was during that time that I first met Tony Cannings, whom I met in the 1st grade."

"I take from the earlier quip it that the two of you didn't get along very well." Wilma said.

"Actually, when Tony and I first met, we got along really well. It didn't take long for us to become really close friends, so much so that everyone else simply called us AT. It was actually pretty humorous looking back at it, but at the time we took it in stride, and we probably would've continued on like that had it not been for two tragedies that struck the two of us in the 5th grade."

"What happened?"

"Well, first, my father was gravely injured in a freak accident. The building where he worked had one of those pneumatic pipe systems, and one day the pipe jammed. According to the report, the pipe in his office exploded, and his head and neck was riddled with metal shrapnel. Though he was rushed to the hospital, he had lost so much blood that his chance of survival was minimal. He died the next day.

Then Tony's mother died unexpectedly due to complications from pneumonia roughly a month later. It was a horrible set of circumstances that left us each without a parent. The surviving parents, that being my mother and Tony's father, didn't think that it was right for us to live with only one adult, so they decided to get married, if only for the sake to provide us with some stability in our lives."

"Wow. That's… horrible. But what did you and Tony think of that arrangement?"

"Knowing how good friends we were, initially we loved the idea. That way, we could live under the same roof, and not have to make plans about what we were going to do during the year. And all told, the rest of the 5th grade and through the 6th grade went by very smoothly. But as we got going through the 7th grade, things began to change for the worse."

"How so?"

"Over time, Tony stopped being the fun guy you'd want to hang out with on a daily basis and began to turn into a bully. Even now I'm still not sure why he turned into such a jerk, but whatever the case was he made me feel less than human, no matter where I went."

"What did he do to you? And didn't you complain to your parents about this?"

"Tony liked playing embarrassing jokes on me, as if every day was April Fool's Day. As for my parents, my mother deeply sympathized with my issues and tried to keep Tony from being mean to me, though it had little effect outside of the house. I couldn't get Tony's father to do anything about it; he was nothing more but a distant dope that couldn't care less about anything except furniture, which was the basis of his work. More often than not, he would be sitting in his recliner, either reading the newspaper or watching TV while drinking beer."

"Oh. Then I'll take it that your mother couldn't get Tony's father to control his son's behavior."

"Yes."

"So, here's what I want to know: how then did your name get changed to Arthur Addlestadt?"

"It was a pretty bad incident that occurred just a week or so before the Christmas break during freshman year. By that time his jokes had become extremely painful and insulting, and they were having an effect on my grades. I in particular had a huge project on geography that I needed a good grade on, but Tony thought it was perfectly fine to sabotage my project."

"How did he do that?"

"Seriously, you don't want to know. But it was an extremely humiliating display that insulted the teacher and caused the entire classroom to dissolve into laughter. Normally, I would just stomach something of this sort and move on, but I was so furious at what happened that I lost my temper and exploded into a pique of violence towards Tony. I don't remember too much of what happened next, but in all of the commotion I wound up badly hurting my teacher as badly as I did beating up Tony. A few seconds later, I was hit from behind by some unknown force and I wound up unconscious."

"You… beat up… Tony?"

"Yes. And pretty badly. I wound up breaking his nose and his lower jaw in the incident. The geography teacher wasn't badly hurt, though the wind was knocked out of her. As for the thing that knocked me out, I later learned that my gym teacher had been walking by, and being a former football linebacker, his first instinct was to tackle me."

"Ugh. That doesn't sound overly pleasant."

"It wasn't. I didn't feel anything until hours later, when I had been sent to the hospital for observation. But while I was fine physically speaking, I definitely wasn't fine mentally of emotionally."

"I bet so. What happened after that?"

"Well, considering how badly I beat up Tony, I wound up being suspended from school for the remainder of the year. They were even considering expelling me for a moment, but considering my clean track record up to that point, there was no reason for such a severe punishment. But considering what had happened, the school was reluctant to allow me back in. Ultimately, a deal was reached: if I completed the remainder of my school work at the hospital at an adequate level, they would be willing to allow me to return for my sophomore year."

"What about legal issues? I'm sure by the way you beat up Tony you had to contend with that."

"There was a basis to have charges filed against me, but for reasons I can't explain, Tony decided not to do so."

"Really? With the way you described him, he would quickly press them into the ground."

"I know. But I never questioned that logic, and I won't start now."

"OK, so what was life like in the hospital?"

"It was surprisingly pleasant. For the first time in years, I was able to concentrate on my studies, which had suffered significantly as Tony's pranks had grown meaner. The results showed that improvement: whereas I had barely scraped by with a 3.0 average during the fall semester, I got a 3.9 during the spring semester, which I spent in the hospital. It was there that I began to take interest in business and psychology, and where I took up the hobby of music, particularly singing, at the insistence of the psychologist I was assigned during my stay. He told me it would be in my best interest to develop a hobby so I didn't get burned out by my studies."

"Did many people visit you during your stay?"

"Of course. Needless to say, my mother visited me as often as she could. Every now and again, I would be visited by some of my teachers to check up on how I was doing with my studies. The gym teacher visited me once, mainly to apologize to me for tackling me. Interestingly, we became pretty good friends after that and he got me interested in weightlifting. Come to think of it, I haven't been lifting the bars for quite some time. I need to start doing that again, lest I become kind of weak again."

"I don't think anyone who could beat up Tony the way you described could call himself 'weak'."

"It was mostly adrenaline and unadulterated rage that was the result of the damage done, Wilma."

"Anyway, did Tony ever visit you? I bet the two of you were in the same hospital."

"We were. But we never saw each other and I made it crystal-clear to everyone around me that I didn't want to see my half-brother for any circumstances. I later learned that Tony has asked for the same thing. In consequence, we never so much as caught a glance of each other during the times he was recovering."

"All right. So after you got out of the hospital, what happened? I highly doubt you would have returned home, knowing what awaited."

"My mother certainly thought along those lines. Seeing how the marriage had only caused problems between me and Tony, she decided to divorce Tony's father and had moved into a two-bedroom apartment on the other side of Fadden Hills. That way, I wouldn't have to deal with Tony on a constant basis. She had already moved all of my stuff there when I left the hospital, so I didn't need to do anything, and I wouldn't run into Tony. My mother still lives in that apartment today."

"But you still had to deal with Tony at school. I mean, how did you manage that without suffering another massive meltdown?"

"The school recognized that it would be stupid to put me back into the same group of students as Tony was in. So they moved me into a different group that was in the opposite schedule I was originally in. If you had attended school in Fadden Hills, you'd know what I'm talking about."

Wilma groaned when I said that. Knowing that such a topic was off-limits, I said, "Sorry about that. But knowing the topic at hand…"

"Don't worry about it." Wilma answered, sounding annoyed. "But even then, you'd run into Tony at least once."

"I did see him a few times, but they were brief sightings. Neither of us ever came close to actually running into each other. I think we both realized that it would be in our best interests to stay away from each other."

"So, what was life like now that you were in your new group?"

"It was much, much better. I no longer had to figure out how to stay out of my brother's shadow, and I could actually start being myself for once. But what was surprising was how friendly my fellow students were towards me in spite of the incident, since everyone knew of it not long after it happened. They had a lot of empathy for me, especially one who would wind up playing the biggest role in these affairs right now."

"Who would that be?"

"Your mother, Wilma."

"Her? She was in your group?"

"Yes. She was the first one to help make me feel wanted in the group."

"Wow… I… never expected her to be welcoming towards anyone, knowing how unforgiving she is."

"It was a long time ago, Wilma. Long before you came into the picture. And in any rate I don't think she's as nasty as you make her seem."

"Whatever."

"Anyway, your mother helped me get back into the groove of things, and it certainly didn't hurt that she was as much of an academic as I was, though in different subjects. She also helped me develop more of a social life, and ultimately introduced me to the future band-mates of Thundersnow. For the remainder of my time in high school, those were my friends, and they were as much of a linchpin of my life as was my mother."

"Hmm. Just out of curiosity, what was your relationship with my mother?"

"It was entirely casual. Looking back at it though, maybe I should have tried to make our relationship more serious than it was. But owing to our studies and our mostly differing interests, we never made an effort to take it to the next level."

"What about Tony? Did you ever hear anything about how he was getting along?"

"Well, considering the incident beforehand, my mother believed that it was best not to mention anything regarding Tony while I was around. It was probably the best considering what happened."

"But knowing that you were in the same school, you had to hear some things about him."

"And I did. In fact, it didn't take long for him to establish a new reputation amongst the student body. Not as a bully and a prankster, but as a philanderer. On more than one occasion, I overheard people talking about Tony and whom he was dating next. I swear to religion that he was dating someone new every other month for the entire school year. And he wasn't picky about whom he dated: if you were a female, you'd be instantly eligible for his affections, if only for a little while. In other words, he would be dating a cheerleader one month and then a member of the chess club the next. The only other thing I ever heard about Tony was him joining the swim team in his sophomore year, and which he stayed throughout his high school days."

"Yeah, I saw that in all of the pictures in the yearbooks my mother had. She never talked about it, and in the few times I ever saw my father it was never a topic he dwelled on for very long. Eh… was he ever a good swimmer?"

"I never knew directly, since I never went to any swim meets, nor was I friends with anyone from either of the swim teams. I do know that a few students in my group, both boys and girls, were members, so I picked up a lot of stuff from them offhand. From what I heard – and I can't confirm anything – was that he was a competent swimmer, but he wasn't what you'd call a good swimmer."

"Oh."

I realized then I had deflated Wilma in regards to her swimming skills, so I responded, "Wilma, you shouldn't compare your capabilities to your father's. It isn't worth it anyway, since you joined your swim team because you enjoyed swimming. Tony, on the other hand, likely joined the boys' team so he could mingle with the members of the girls' team, which he did. It's interesting to note that say this because before he signed up, whenever he wasn't pestering me he was looking into the pool area, watching the teams practice. And that was the basis of the comments I had made a few days earlier that got you so worked up."

"Well, it still doesn't make any less lewd than you made it sound."

"Yeah. I'll admit that myself. But overall, I think he wound up dating every member of the swim team that was in our class, and a few from the next class down."

"Is there ANYTHING else worth discussing in regards to your past that doesn't connect to my father's high school dating escapades?"

"OK, you got me there. Eventually, we all graduated from high school, and we all soon went our separate ways. After the disastrous Thundersnow experiment which I have already told you, I went into college to study business, with a little psychology as an appetizer of sorts. I wanted to take that up so I could better understand and come to terms with my past and present, and to keep myself from having myself embarrassed in the future. But there was one thing I did not anticipate."

'That being my mother and father hooking up."

"Exactly. I guess I should have seen it coming, since they went to the same college. I only wound up getting word of this when I returned to Fadden Hills for summer break after my second year. It was all a coincidence for lack of better description: I ran into Susan while I was doing an errand for my mother, and we got to talking about how our lives were going. At the end of the discussion, she had to split because she said her fiancé was running a separate errand of his own and would meet her back at her car. At first, I didn't think much of it, but then the idea came into my head, and horrified at the possibility, I decided to spy on them from out the window. To my dismay, I saw Tony with Susan, getting into the car and driving off."

"So, what happened after that?"

"I asked my mother about this. Indeed, she had known about this for about a month, but knowing how I didn't want to hear about anything regarding Tony, she kept her mouth shut. Granted, I was happy that she was keeping stuff like this from me, but it didn't improve my mood. It wasn't until a day later that I started to come to terms with the news, because I knew that any relationship he had with a woman would wind up dissolving pretty quickly."

"Obviously, you were wrong."

"Yes. As the months passed, I tried to warn your mother about your father's tendencies in writing, but her only reply was that Tony had changed a lot since his high school days, that they really liked each other, and that I needed to grow up. Ultimately though, I knew that I was right. This, of course, made the whole marriage deal a year later so much more distressing. And it was also the catalyst for me to attempt a split between your parents."

"You did? Why?"

"For the obvious reason that I already knew as fact: your father was a philanderer, and in spite of the surface news, I knew it was going to end in divorce. Or worse."

"I'd hate to ask, but what did you try to do?"

"You don't want to know the details, but let's just say I tried just about everything outside of assassination to get the split. Eventually, one of Tony's friends confronted me and told me that if I tried anymore funny business, he would press charges and a restraining order. I wouldn't have taken it seriously had not the threat included a written note from Tony and Susan, saying that I was being a tool and that if I couldn't accept the marriage, then I wasn't invited. Well, I didn't want to wind in legal hot water, so I foolishly decided to let the marriage be, and in protest of it all, I packed my bags and moved out of Fadden Hills to Kitchener in Ontario."

"All the way out there?"

"Yes. There I would remain working as an accountant for a local investment company until a few years ago, when I was given a job offer here in Whitesage. By that time, your parents had long been divorced and Tony was no longer in Fadden Hills, or any part of New Brunswick, for that matter. Consequently, the province no longer had the smell of filth I thought permeated there, and I took the job. But I remain completely guilt-ridden about my past failure, so much so that I closed myself off from my past in hoping that it would just disappear. And it's only gotten worse knowing that you exist."

Wilma's face looked like slate after all that, and she couldn't come up with something to say. I think that she was so shocked and angry that she didn't know a good way to respond. Ashamed at her statuesque coldness, I then said, "It's entirely my fault, Wilma. If I had tried harder and more discreetly to put an end to your parents' relationship, then you wouldn't be around and have such a rotten life." I then looked out the window and half-whimpered, "Provided that you don't want to kill me, I guess I can try to get you to start a new life in this area. Or I can help you move off to Fredericton. Either way, you'll have the chance to have the life that has been denied to you for so long; only then will I feel my life will not be in vain."

Wilma continued to stare at me with that slate-like look, and then she said, "Arthur, where's your phone?"

I was a little surprised to hear Wilma say that, but having heard that clearly, I said, "Why do you need my phone?"

"I need to call my mother."

"Eh… Well, I guess that you'll have to talk to her about this sometime. OK. I'll get the phone." I then trudged down the ramp into the basement, where I took the phone out of the holder. As I walked up the ramp, I thought, _I've failed you Susan. I've ruined everything again. I guess after this is all done, I better put an end to myself and all of the nonsense I've created_.

Eventually, I got back upstairs and I handed the phone off to Wilma. After looking at the phone for a bit, she began to press the buttons and bring the phone up to her right ear. I then heard her say, "Hi mom… Yeah, I would be surprised too… Hopefully I haven't worried you too much… Oh. Hmm. Yeah…" I then waited for the inevitable words to come out of her mouth, saying how she was moving on; to where was irrelevant. Instead, she said, "Listen, when's the quickest you can get to Whitesage?... Yes, that's where I'm at; it's kind of a long story on how I got here… I think it's halfway between home and Fredericton… You can't come tonight? Why?... OK, I understand. I guess that's all for now… No! Wait! Can you let my friends know I'm coming home?... Well, I don't know if this place has a computer; the whole place is like a modern hippie's paradise… Yes, apparently they don't believe in technology… OK, I'll at least let Taranee know… She'll tell everyone else pretty quickly… OK, is there anything else you need to know?... OK, I'll see you tomorrow morning… Bye." She then hung up and then began typing in another phone number, but before she completed it, I interjected. "Eh, Wilma. Did I just hear you clearly just now? You said you wanted to return home?"

"Yes, I did. Now, if you could let me, I need to call Taranee. I can't delay." She replied. She then went back to work on the phone, and soon enough was talking again: "Hi! It's me, Will!... Yes, I'm fine. And you?... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you… I'm at a place called Whitesage… It's halfway between home and Fredericton… Listen, I'm coming home tomorrow, so can you tell everyone that?... Oh, is there something wrong with Corne?... Oh. I didn't mean to upset her that much… Maybe the first thing I do when I get home is to see her to make her feel better… I guess that'll be fine, but maybe I should ask my mother first before I use the transit… Yeah, I don't want a repeat performance… Well, just hang in there and let everyone else know I'm returning home tomorrow… Thanks. I'll see you soon. Bye." Wilma then turned to me and said, "OK, that takes care of the phone calls. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to pack up."

I was bewildered at what was transpiring before my eyes. Here was a girl that a week before would have succumbed from drowning in her own sadness, and up until a few minutes before she seemed to have wanted to stay here in Whitesage. Now, she was acting as if she had just taken a vacation and was ready to return to her normal life, albeit one that most wouldn't tread in.

Hesitantly, I walked towards the study, where Wilma was busy organizing her duffel bag. She had apparently laid out some clothes for tomorrow, and she was busy figuring out the best way to get everything packed. As I stuck my head into the room, Wilma spotted me and said, "What? Haven't you ever seen someone pack their luggage before?"

"Well, of course I have! But why are you going on like this? Didn't you want to stay here?" I answered.

"At first I did. But now I realize that I don't want to wind up like you. So I'm returning home."

"But... I… Wilma. What exactly do you mean by 'wind up like you'? And what's so wrong about…"

"Look at yourself, Arthur! Just look at yourself! You wound up running away from all of your problems, and look what's happened!"

"Yes, I know I've ruined your…"

"No! That's not what I meant! What I meant is that your decision has left you so overwhelmed with guilt that you shut yourself away from the rest of the world! In your quest to find peace of mind, you've found nothing!"

I just stared at Wilma, trying to figure out what she had told me. Wilma was doing the same while also catching her breath; she was obviously exasperated by my cluelessness on the issue at hand, at least from what I assumed. After what seemed like a long break, but was likely only a few minutes, she said, "Listen. I don't want to wind up chasing a false sense of security, like you did from your schism with Tony. If I do, I'll wind up making the same mistakes you made. I cannot allow that to happen, even if it's in my best interests to do so."

"So what you are saying is that you would rather return to the place that hurt you so, instead of putting distance between that place and yourself."

"You make it sound as if I'm traveling to my doom, Arthur. That's not how I see it. I'm seeing it as a chance to heal the hurt before it gets any worse, and I can't do so if I'm all the way out here. I need to return home to do so."

"But what about the relationships between your mother and your former friends? Would they even want you back?"

"Didn't you hear any of the parts of my phone conversations? They were all amicable in nature! In fact, I think one of my friends needs me more now than she ever did in her life! If that's not reason enough for me to return home, I don't know what else is!"

"OK, I might give you that. But what about your academics and athletics back home? Wouldn't that be reason enough for you to stay away?"

"Well, I admit that I have my issues with both. But I have to at least try to show some academic competency, and if I have to devote the remainder of my adolescence to showing I have the credentials needed to be a success, so be it."

"So, technically speaking, if you do return home, you plan to quit the swim team."

"Yes. I never needed competitive swimming anyway; I can always fit in time to swim for the sake of swimming."

"I see. Well… geez… I don't know what much to say… or do for right now."

"If you need to help me in any way, you can at least get me some sharpened pencils so I can finish up those homework papers you've been collecting from that cyber café."

"What papers?"

"Oh don't play dumb with me Arthur. I know you've been collecting other school papers like the one I crumpled up earlier this week. And if I need to complete them before I return to school, I would like to get started on them as soon as I'm done packing."

"Eh… OK. I'll go get the pencils." I then went back down to my office to gather the pencils, but as I did so, I thought, _How in the world did she know about those papers I've been gathering? I never made any attempt to reveal them to her, so how could she know of their existence?_ All of that musing came to an end once I had gathered up the pencils, along with the homework stored away in my briefcase, and returned back upstairs. I went into the study and found Wilma, her bag fully packed with the exception of what looked to be a metal and crystal pendant that Wilma seemed transfixed on for whatever reason. Curious, I broke her concentration by saying, "I have your pencils." Wilma, perhaps flustered by the timing, quickly hid the pendant in her bag and turned back towards me, looking a bit panicked. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised by that action, but even so, I asked, "Is there something I'm not allowed to look at?"

"Eh, nothing that would be universally considered inappropriate." Wilma replied.

"Yeah… I kind of get what you are getting at. But from the brief glance I got, it looked like a pendant of some sort."

Wilma kind of got a little red-faced when I said this, but perhaps out of her continued desire to not become my clone of sorts, she said, "Yes, it was a pendant. I brought it with me."

"I see. Was it a gift from your mother?"

"Actually, no. It was given to me by Hay Lin's grandmother, about two months before I arrived at my current home, and about three years ago from today. I was a little bit surprised to get it from someone I had never met before. In fact, Hay Lin and I barely knew each other at the time."

"Interesting. Well, I won't goad you into providing more info. Here are the pencils you requested, as I said before. And here's the homework. Let me know if you need any help."

"How about you go through a review of it all once I get it all done. You can then tell me which ones I got wrong and I can then correct them."

"You aren't really planning on staying up all night to do this! It's already 10:00 PM! You'll exhaust yourself!"

"I have to try, Arthur! Knowing by the load of work I've got to do, I don't have a moment to lose."

"But Wilma…"

"Arthur, I'll be fine. Once I start getting tired I'll hear off to bed. You better do so yourself."

"Well, OK. But please don't try to push yourself too hard. You have all weekend to get it completed." I then left Wilma to work on her papers, whereas I walked downstairs to get cleaned up. Soon enough I was ready to go to bed, but before I hit the sack, I took a quick peak at Wilma. She was very busy, looking at the source material, and then very quickly scribbling something onto the answer sheet. Not wanting to disturb her, I whispered, "I'm going to bed now, Wilma. Try not to push yourself."

In response, I thought I heard her whisper, "I'll keep that in mind." I then walked into my bedroom, got underneath the sheets, and was fast asleep.

Looking back at it now, I realize that was the most important evening I ever had. I had given Wilma a reason to live, and had indirectly given me a new reason to live for myself. In time, it shed my old shell, and replaced it with an energy I had not experienced in years. Never to my knowledge had a teenager done more for my mind, or that of an adult of my stature, than Wilma had done, and as far as I will know, it may never happen again.


	9. Chapter 9

Page 4

_Day 9_

After a surprisingly restful sleep, I was understandably reluctant to get out of bed. Maybe it was because of the discourse Wilma and I had last night, but I had slept soundly for the first time in a long time, and had it not been for my work, I would have been inclined to stay in bed for the rest of the day. But I still got out of bed, and walked out into the main room.

By now, I was expecting Wilma to be at the table, either eating breakfast or at least at the table. But this time I saw neither. Concerned, I then turned towards the study and opened the door. There was Wilma, about three quarts asleep, trying to finish one of her school papers. Apparently, she had stayed up all night trying to finish the work she had been assigned.

"Wilma…" I said, as I approached her. Upon hearing her name, she woke up a bit more and said, "Sorry. I just didn't get enough sleep last night. I… oh. Hi Arthur."

"You spent all night working on the school papers I gave you, didn't you?"

"Yes. But it's all right. I've already gotten the math and biology done. I'm just taking care of… ahhhh… history right now."

"Wilma, you've got all weekend to get this stuff done. You don't need to push yourself this hard. And besides, I doubt your mother would want to see you like this."

"Well, to be truthful, she sees me like this more often than not. She doesn't mind it too much."

"Still, I doubt that she would want to see you like this. Come on, let go get you some breakfast; that should help you wake up a little."

Wilma was in no mood to resist, and by all accounts she appeared hungry. So she got up and the two of us walked over to the kitchen/dining area, where we served ourselves breakfast.

Little by little, Wilma began to wake up, though she still yawned a lot. As we ate, she asked me, "So, what's your plans for this week?"

I was a bit surprised to hear that, though by now nothing she said surprised that much anymore. I answered, "Oh, not much, just the same old routine that I've followed for so long. I don't expect your routine to change compared to what it was before this week."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that."

"Why do you say that?"

"I've got quite a bit to do. I've got to take care of my homework, first and foremost. Then I have to fully patch things up with my friends, especially Cornelia. She's been very distraught since I left home, and she could use some cheering up. Then I've got to at least try to straighten things out with Matt, and then I've got to let my swim coach know that I'm quitting the swim team… ahhhh… Hopefully that's all I need to do. From there, I'll get back to something similar to my old routine."

"Seems like you've got stuff figured out, Wilma. And by all accounts, you are moving in the right direction."

"Yeah. But just in case I need to talk to you, is it OK if I could get your phone number?"

"Sure. But just for your information, your mother knows of my phone number too. Now if you don't mind, I would like to go downstairs and get a piece of paper…"

"Oh, you can borrow a piece of paper from me. I've got plenty."

"All right, I'll be right back." And with that, I walked towards the study and opened the door. I took a piece of paper off the pile stacked next to the makeshift desk Wilma had constructed for her work, as well as a pencil nearby. I then made my way out of the study and into the kitchen/dining area, where Wilma was still eating her breakfast, and still yawning.

"OK, let me write it down for you." I said as I sat down. And I just finished writing up the number when I heard a knock at the door. I then said to Wilma, "The number's finished. I'll get the door." I got back up from my seat and I checked to see who it was.

It was Susan. _Wow, she got here early!_ I thought. _Oh well, may as well let her in_. So I opened up the door and said, "Nice to see you again."

"It's nice to see you too, Arthur. Where's…" Susan began to say, but she never had a chance to finish, because I then heard Wilma screech, "MOM!" and she halfway flung herself into her mother's arms. Susan then said to me, "I guess this answers my question." She then turned to Wilma and said, "How are you?"

"Great, Mom." Wilma said. "And you?"

"Same here." She then turned to me and said, "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything, Arthur."

"Oh no, Susan. We were just finishing up with breakfast. After that, I don't know what we would've done next."

"Well, I would've liked to have returned to my school papers, I only have the math and biology done." Wilma said. This kind of took Susan by surprise, who then said to Wilma, "Why the concern for homework all of a sudden?"

"Because I want to be a success story. All this time I've been unconsciously trying to fail not just myself, but everyone around me. Now I know better, and I want to give my all while I'm still around."

"I see. But don't push yourself too hard. It's important to be a success, but it's also important that we try to enjoy life while we strive for that success." Susan then turned back to me and said, "Do you need help with anything?"

"No, not really." I responded. "I can take care of the dishes. Just make yourself at home, and I'll be with you two shortly." I turned my attention to the dishes, which didn't take too long for me to take care of. Susan and Wilma, on the other hand, had moved to the main room and were now sitting on the couch, playing with Sven. I soon joined them, saying, "I hope that the trip out here wasn't too much of a problem."

"Only at the beginning and the end." Susan answered. "The beginning I had to deal with the usual Heatherfield traffic, and at the end, I had to be asked for a legitimate Canadian driver's license. I still don't get that part."

"Oh. That. It's a security measure to keep Stupidians out of Whitesage."

"What? Stupidians?"

"That's what we call the people in the nation to the south of us. Knowing that this used to be a hippie commune, we have a very liberal worldview, by Canadian standards, anyway. And especially with what's been happening the last two years now, we have good reason to limit their influence around here."

"I see. That's kind of weird that this community would use such a childish insult for an entire nation, even if they kind of deserve it."

"Well, it's part of our culture, so you'll have to learn to accept it."

"Anyway, the ride was very nice as a whole." Susan then turned to Wilma and asked, "So what did you think of this place?"

"Oh, I think it may be the most wonderful town I've ever been in." Wilma said. "I've never met so many nice people who were willing to help me out, even when I didn't need their help. But while this place is great, I know my life revolves around Heatherfield. I just wish they have some of the services there that I took part in."

"Like what?"

"Oh, two days ago, I was taken to a spiritual therapy center, where they had these things called float tanks where you just float on saltwater. I never felt so cleared up after an hour in it. And then I took part in something called Watsu, which almost felt like I had drifted away into a place where all of my sadness no longer existed. I wish there was stuff like that in Heatherfield, but I doubt there is."

"Actually, Arthur told me about these things, and I did a little research. Heatherfiled does have facilities for both float tanks and Watsu. They are a little off the beaten path, but seeing how much you enjoyed them, I think we can try to go over there once a week."

Wilma looked elated when hearing this, and asked, "Really? You mean it?"

"Of course. And when I said 'we', I meant it: I want to try this stuff out too. Unless you think it would be embarrassing to join you in this way."

Wilma became even more jubilant when she heard this, saying, "Oh no! I would be happy if you joined me with these things! You won't regret this, I swear!"

"Well, I'm happy to hear that, Wilma."

From there, the discussion turned towards more menial stuff. We discussed Wilma's plans once she returned home, namely her desire to quit the swim team so she could concentrate on her studies. Susan wasn't terribly surprised to hear that, and she agreed with Wilma's assessment that engaging in something within a competitive framework was unnecessary. We also discussed a few other things regarding Whitesage, its history, the town's mores, and the like. We must have spent an hour talking like this, though it didn't last that long.

Eventually, Susan said, "Well, I think we better get going. Hopefully there isn't too much for us to load up."

"No, there isn't." Wilma said. And she took off to the study, where I heard her gather stuff up. Susan followed her, and I heard her say, "Do you need help gathering stuff up?"

"If you want to. I can get it all myself, but if you'd like to carry something, I'm not going to complain." Wilma responded.

After that, the two continued to pick stuff up and move things around. This task barely took five minutes until they walked out with all of Wilma's things. Sven, who had been hiding in a corner all this time, left it to see what was happening. Noticing that Wilma was leaving, he started to whine. Wilma heard this and turned back to Sven, saying, "Oh, I'm sorry Sven. I know that you really want me to stay, but I have friends back home. I can't just abandon them." Sven continued to whine, and in response, Wilma said, "I'll eventually be coming back to visit, so don't worry about me." Sven stopped whining, but he still looked sad to see Wilma go. Susan had seen all of this, and asked me, "Is that your dog?"

"Yes. It's an Elkhound. He usually doesn't like strangers, but he and Wilma bonded right away. In fact, Sven was the one who found Wilma in the first place." I answered.

"Hmm. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Wilma has a way with animals." She then turned to Sven and approached him, who got nervous again and started to back into the corner again. Upon seeing this, Wilma said to Sven, "Oh, you don't have to be nervous around her. That's my mother! She's not going to hurt you." Sven started to calm down again and Susan began to pet him and scratch behind his ears. Sven definitely liked that, but all too soon it was time for Wilma and Susan to get back to the task at hand.

I quickly returned to my bedroom to get dressed for the day, and from there I stepped outside to see Wilma and Susan load up the car. "Is there anything you need help with?" I asked as I walked towards the car.

"No. We're fine. Just getting the last things put away." Susan answered. Soon enough they were all packed up and ready to head out. The two ladies turned towards me and Susan said, "Well, it looks like we're on our way out, Arthur. Thanks for everything this past week; I know that I'll forever be in your debt."

"No, you don't need to be." I answered. "I'm just trying to help out."

Susan nodded to indicate that she understood. Then I turned to Wilma and I said, "I guess that'll be it, at least for now. Maybe sometime down the line you can visit me, but I'll try to stay in contact with you and your mother as much as possible in the meantime." After a short break, I said, "I wish you the best from here on out." After hearing that, Wilma jumped into my arms and hugged me. I expected that, in honesty. What I didn't expect was for Wilma to also kiss me on my left cheek; it was brief, but it was still noticed. She then said, "Thanks, Arthur. And thanks for giving me my life back." She then let me go and made her way back to the car, stepping into the passenger side. After closing the door and a delay to get her seat belt secured, I heard the car rumble to life and soon move down the street, but not before I saw Wilma wave back at me. I waved back and I returned back inside to clean up the place and get ready for work.

The rest of the day went by pretty much like it did before Wilma showed up, though I felt a weird tingle that perhaps now I no longer had to live in shame about my past. As much as I gave Wilma her life back, she had done the same for myself, and now was the time to follow in her footsteps. At least in theory, anyway.

The biggest thing that I did for that path occurred after work. After I was officially finished with work, and as I was getting ready to leave, I came across the frog necklace that Wilma had noticed in her job shadow here. Eyeing it and knowing how much I had been out of her life, I asked Bryan, "Hey, is it OK if I could buy this?"

Bryan, who was as busy getting stuff put away as I was, looked over towards me and answered, "Sure. But why? That isn't something you'd be interested in."

"Well, remember my niece, Wilma?"

"The red-haired girl? Yes. Is she now back home?"

"Sure is. Left for home this morning. Anyway, I thought that, since he hasn't gotten any proper birthday presents from me over the years, I wanted to at least start making up for lost time with something she likes. And since she likes frogs and was attracted to this necklace, I thought I could get this for her."

"I see. Well, I guess I can ring it up for you. Anything else?"

"Hmm. How about this fall scenery card. You know, to go along with the necklace."

"OK. That'll be ¤30.255."

I then pulled out the currency required and it was packaged up and ready to go. "Thanks, Bryan. I appreciate it. I'll see you tomorrow, as always."

He waved, and I went about my way. I then picked up Sven and I returned home. Once back at home, I found an old shoe box that I could use for the package. I then began to write inside the card. When it was finished, it read like this:

Hi Wilma.

Knowing how much you liked this frog necklace back in the Mystic's Emporium, I thought that you would love to have this as a birthday present, be it early or late. You can determine which it is.

Hopefully things are going well back in Heatherfield. But if there's anything you need to talk about, don't hesitate to call me. I may be busy, but I'll try to deal with your concerns as quickly as I can. Of course, I'll try to call you and Susan every weekend, just to see how things are going.

In any case, let me know if you and/or Susan have any plans to visit me. I'd be more than happy to see either of you, even if it's just for a day. Beyond that, I hope to hear from you soon.

Your Uncle,

Arthur

Satisfied with what I wrote, I sealed up the box with both the card and the necklace, and then I went downstairs to get some exercise; something I rarely did with Wilma in tow. With that done, I got cleaned up and I was soon in bed. And I never slept more soundly than I did that night.


	10. Epilogue

Page 3

_Epilogue_

It was about one week when I first called Wilma, to see how life was going since we last saw each other. I called around 3:00 PM, just after getting myself a drink of coffee, which I kind of needed because it had been raining on and off all day and was otherwise very gray. In other words, the type of conditions that one would just want to sleep all day if possible.

I was expecting Susan to get the phone, but Wilma actually picked up the phone. "Hello?" she said.

"Hi Wilma." I answered. "It's me, Arthur."

"Oh! I completely forgot! You're trying to call us once a week to see how things are going!"

"Yep. That's what I told you in the card that was with that gift I sent you."

"Oh yes! I can't believe that you got that necklace for me; thanks! Everyone really likes it."

"That's quite surprising, considering that not too many people back in Whitesage took much interest in the thing. But then again, perspective is different for everybody. I'm pretty sure you're wearing it right now."

"Of course. Unless there's a good reason for putting to the side, I'll wear it."

"Glad to hear that. So, since you've returned home, how has things been going?"

"Excellent, Arthur. It's been a full turn since that day when I ran off to your part of the province."

"Well, why don't you tell me about it, topic by topic, starting with your mother. How are things going between the two of you?"

"Much better. We don't seem to get into arguments anymore. I mean, there are still some issues that pop up, but we don't allow them to get all that serious, like we used to."

"That's good to hear. Have you and your mother taken part in the float tank therapy and Watsu therapy yet?"

"Just once, of course. It was just the way I remembered it from back in Whitesage. My mother really likes it too! She thinks that we should make this a weekly routine, though she thinks that we should concentrate on the Watsu stuff."

"Why just the Watsu?"

"I don't know. I think that it costs quite a bit to do both the float tank and the Watsu stuff, and it would be easier just to do one or the other. But I also think she personally likes being moved about in the pool, compared to just lying in a shallow tub of concentrated salt water. Plus, she's intrigued about taking part in Waterdance sessions sometime in the future, which they offer at this place."

"Is it similar to Watsu?"

"Kind of, though a lot of it takes place underwater. I'm kind of interested in it too, though both of us have been told to take part in more Watsu sessions first."

"I see. Makes perfect sense considering the general picture of the more advanced stuff you told me. By the way, is your mother around?"

"I'm afraid not. She ran off to get some groceries really quick. Hopefully she'll be coming home soon."

"That's too bad. I would've liked to have talked to her after you were done. Maybe she'll show up in the meantime."

"I think she will."

"Anyway, how are things going with your friends and Matt?"

"It's back to normal. All of my friends were really happy to see me, and they were all quite sad that something like this happened. Especially Cornelia."

"Yeah, I heard during that phone conversation with… OK, who were you talking with again?"

"That night in Whitesage? It was Taranee. Anyway, Cornelia felt that she was entirely to blame for me running away, and it was upsetting her so much that she seemed to break down into tears every other hour. At least, that's what I was told. So soon after seeing all of my other friends, we took off to see Cornelia."

"Was she as happy to see you as the rest of your friends were?"

"Well, she first didn't believe it was me, but once she saw that I was really me, she jumped into my arms, bawling and blubbering for my forgiveness. Considering that her eyes were a deep shade of pink, I forgave her. She's better now, but she still thinks the whole thing was her fault, and I don't think I can convince her otherwise."

"Hmm. Well, try not to worry about it too much. If anything, she'll be extra careful not to be a bad friend."

"Cornelia was never a 'bad' friend; she's just a bit blunt with her views, that's all. But she's promised to be more considerate and diplomatic about her words and actions from now on."

"That's something everyone needs to do. And at least it's possible in our part of the world. The Stupidians, on the other hand…"

"Eh, let's keep on subject, OK?"

"Yeah. Sorry about that. So, everything regarding your friends is going well. What about Matt?"

"Pretty good. He explained to me that he was setting up a surprise Halloween party for me, and thusly I've made up with him. He says that he'll try to be more open about his activities, musically and otherwise, from this point forward so that I don't suspect anything out of the ordinary. He actually would someday like to talk to you about your musical exploits, if you don't mind."

"I'll think about that, but I will be open to a musical discussion if I get him on the line. Now, about your school stuff. How's that coming along?"

"It's gotten better. All of my reports and other schoolwork I was assigned got good marks, and I think that I'm going better on all of my subjects. Of course, I won't know until I get an official report, but so far all of my teachers say I'm doing quite well on my subjects. Even my math is doing better, and I've always struggled with math!"

"Excellent. That's the best part I've heard all day. It just goes to show the world that competition in anything ultimately ruins everything…"

"Actually Arthur, I never quit the swim team. I was just about to get to that."

"You DIDN'T quit the swim team? But why?"

"Well, it's a really sweet story. You remember me talking about Neil back in Whitesage that other day?"

"Yes. He's part of the boy's swim team, if I remember correctly."

"That's right. Well, after hearing the story from Matt, he let both of the swim teams know what had happened, and in a sign of support, everyone got their hair dyed red."

"Dyed red?"

"That's my hair color, Arthur!"

"Yeah, I knew that. I'm just a little confused by that response; it's definitely different. Then again, I never understood the solidarity of athletic groups. Anyway, go on."

"Well, as touching as the display was, I still wanted to quit. But then I heard that the girl who had taken my roster spot had gotten sick and they were in need of someone to swim the freestyle events. So, I reluctantly decided to postpone that resignation until after the season was over. But in that swim meet, the most amazing thing happened."

"What was that?"

"I won in every event that I took part in! I would have been overjoyed to have succeeded in just one event, but to win them all was… beyond euphoric!"

"Well, that's great to hear that you were that successful. I guess while we are on the topic of swimming, have your times improved any?"

"They certainly have. Both in the meet and in all of my practices, I've significantly slashed my times that I had before we met up. In fact, just yesterday I clocked a 24.95 on a 50-meter freestyle swim. That's a personal best!"

"Wow. That's good by anyone's standpoint.

"Yeah. At this rate, I might be able to swim the 50-meter freestyle under 24.5 seconds around this time next week!"

"I wouldn't be surprised if you did. But remember Wilma: you should only conduct swimming, or any interest for that matter, as a means to an end, with that end being the betterment of yourself. Don't let it become an end unto itself, like you did before."

"I understand, Arthur. I won't pursue swimming in a competitive sense once I'm done with high school. I know better than to have it consume my life."

"Good. If there's anything I hoped you'd learn while you were here with me, it was to not allowing yourself to be consumed by your interests to the point they become destructive."

"I've learned it well."

"Well, the only thing that I can think of is about any future plans to visit me. Have you and Susan discussed this any?"

"A little. She thinks that, if there's time, we can visit you around the Christmas season, or maybe to put it more accurately to Whitesage logic, Yule season. But nothing has been set in stone just yet. We'll be sure to let you know if we are planning anything that will be in your part of the province."

"OK. I keep my ears open to anything that's coming your way."

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some homework I need to get back to. I'll let my mom know you called, though she'll probably say the same stuff as I have just now."

"OK. She doesn't have to call me, but if she wants to, be sure to let her know. And in any case, I'll talk to you around this time next week, unless something comes up. If so, I'll try to call near that time."

"OK. Bye."

"Bye." I then hung up, happy to hear that Wilma was both happy and surprisingly prosperous. If ever anything had made my day, it was this. And it made me want to see this girl, my niece, again in all of her new-found greatness.


End file.
